Brothers in Arms
by Bee.Eh.Vee
Summary: "Interest is at the point that it is time to match the legends to the bodies. You two are those bodies. We shall begin tomorrow." "Hetty, isn't this a job for...partners?" "That's true, Mr. Callen, but it's going to be difficult to pass you and Mr. Hanna off as brothers." Arms trafficking will never be the same...
1. Day 1

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer Part I: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I'd be driving the Challenger. I want that car.  
**Disclaimer Part II:** This is new for me, so please be kind.

* * *

**Day 1**

Paperwork.

The glamorous life of law enforcement. Deeks sighed as he signed off on yet another form. Some days he wondered if the newest tech toys and being a part of this team of super people was worth all the extra paperwork that found its way into his 'in' box due to his position as the liaison. He tucked his head into his shoulders and prepared himself to plow through yet another form. He was so beaten down by the sheer load that he had stopped tapping the end of his pen against the desk an hour ago. Kensi would've cheered any other day, but today she had peered out from behind her pile and had sent him a wobbly smile.

Sam was unaffected; he worked down his pile with a determination and efficiency that would make Hetty proud. Callen was a different story, he never seemed to move, yet his pile had magically disappeared and he had spent the last hours tapping away on his laptop. In theory, his position as team leader should mean he would bear the brunt of the work, but he almost never had anything on his desk to do. Maybe insomnia had an upside.

Deeks internally sighed, mentally rolled his eyes, and went back to his form. Apparently he had to justify the bullets he popped into the jihadist last week. What was his reasoning? 'Bad dude trying to kill me and the rest of LA.' He hoped that would make it past Hetty; who was he kidding. It wouldn't, but maybe she'd get a laugh and let it go due to his undeniable charm. He was a dreamer, after all.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, it was about three forms worth, when out of the silence his phone buzzed with a text. He dug around on his desk and under the papers to find it. The message came from Ops and he was to go straight up there, making no stops at go and not collecting $200 at start. Looks like Eric was having fun at work today. He hauled himself out of the chair.

"Where are you going?" Kensi's head popped up like a groundhog out of its hole. Sam never looked.

Deeks waggled his phone at her, "I've been called up to Ops. You can't come, you weren't invited." He was about to start on a long soliloquy about it when he saw Callen, who hadn't been sitting at his desk, walking past the stairs and into Ops. Interesting. "Gotta go."

Callen and Hetty stared at each other while Eric and Nell hovered with their tablets. Callen minutely raised his eyebrows at Hetty to say 'what?'. She, just as minutely, shook her head to answer 'not yet'. Callen leaned back against the table and waited.

Deeks burst through the door, hiking up his pants as he did and stopped. "Alright, who died?"

Callen raised his left eyebrow at Hetty this time. She ignored him.

"Nobody, yet, Mr. Deeks, but there is a plan in motion to ensure people don't."

"Is it a plan or a plot? Because there is a big difference."

Callen raised his right eyebrow. Deeks was honestly the only person who could get away with this level of immaturity. He respected him as a cop and as a part of the team, but working with him as partners would drive him to distraction. He understood why Kensi groaned a lot.

Hetty turned to Eric and Nell and motioned for them to start. They tapped away and she began to speak. "The last few months we have been creating a legend, or more specifically, building on a rumour that has been circulating. A major arms dealer, known only as Le Renard has been operating in and around Europe. He is a creation of Mr. Beale and Miss Jones. However, there has been interest from several parties for cooperation. We have floated the story that Le Renard has an associate in LA that operates in the underbelly. Since Le Renard is quite difficult to contact, the rumour is that one way to get his attention is to go through the associate.

"Interest is at the point that it is time to match the legends to the bodies. You two are those bodies. There are files prepared for you to browse and memorize. We shall begin tomorrow."

"Hetty, isn't this a job for...partners?" Callen was hesitant to ask, but it was necessary. He saw Deeks stiffen slightly beside him.

"That's true, Mr. Callen, but it's going to be difficult to pass you and Mr. Hanna off as illegitimate brothers."

Deeks snorted out a laugh. "Well then, Hetty, I think I'll have a Jag this time. Mercedes are becoming too common." At the incredulous looks from Eric and Nell, and the eye tightening from Callen, he laughed harder. "Fine, I guess I got dibs on the lowlife LA-er again. What's my poison this time?"

Hetty handed over the files. "Do your homework.

Callen and Deeks stepped through the doorway and before Deeks could turn towards the stairs, Callen pulled him to the side behind one of the many poles.

Callen looked directly into Deeks eyes and asked in a low voice "answer me honestly, do you think you could play the part of an arms dealer?"

Deeks, taken aback, thinks for a moment and then replies, "hey, I might not be fluent in multiple languages and dialects or know all the secret code words from spending time in the Russian backwoods, but I can be suave and mysterious too. I can do more than be that drunken homeless guy and the funny loser." He pulled in a breath to continue but Callen held up a hand to stop him.

"Second question, how much do you keep up with the laws regarding arms and the trafficking of them?"

One corner of Deeks' mouth pulled up in a wry smile, "A habit I never dropped from law school; I keep up with all of them."

"Good, it makes you a better cop. Review all the relevant laws and keep an eye out for any loopholes you can find that would be beneficial to our covers. Go home now and I'll see you in the morning."

"Uh, Hetty would've mentioned a lawyer angle, wouldn't she?"

"I've got an angle I want to work. Don't mention this to Sam or Kensi yet."

With that Deeks shrugged and nodded okay. He headed down the stairs and grabbed his bag. Callen watched as he exchanged quick good-byes and walked out of the bullpen. Sam and Kensi looked at each other, Sam shrugged and went back to his paperwork. Kensi stared down the hallway for a moment and then followed his lead.

Callen turned and went back to his quiet corner. He had work to do.


	2. Day 2

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, someone would say "Alright, who died?" after walking into Ops. Preferably Hetty.

* * *

**Day 2**

Deeks awoke to his phone buzzing, signalling a text. He groaned, contemplating pulling a pillow over his head and pretending he didn't hear it. He'd been up until three in the morning going over first the file, which was pretty slim, and then laws and loopholes. He'd had his last coffee at eleven but it was enough caffeine to keep his mind running until he finished his task.

He reached over and found his phone by feel, pushing aside the paperback that he'd been wanting to finish. His arm, still somewhat numbed by sleep, found its way in front of his face and he rubbed at his eyes with the other hand while he opened the text by rote, his eyes still fighting to open.

When he finally levered his eyelids up, he read the text, blinked numerous times, and then read it two more times. Confident he understood it, he closed his eyes again, only to be rudely awoken again by his phone buzzing. He sighed, wiggled until his legs had moved from the bottom of the bed to hanging over the edge and rocked back and forth until he shot upright and out of bed.

He padded into the bathroom and set his phone on the counter. What he really wanted was breakfast, but he had a bad feeling he wasn't awake enough to be trusted with making anything yet. He stepped in the shower and ran through the texts again in his mind as the water beating down on his head woke him up enough that his eyes were staying open on their own.

_Pack enough clothes for a week and meet me in Room 528 at 7. Avoid people as much as possible._ There were GPS coordinates for a hotel located by LAX attached.

_Don't fall asleep again. Get up and moving. _Thanks mom.

Deeks dried himself off and stepped out of the shower with the towel haphazardly wrapped around himself. He found another text waiting for him. He assumed these things were coming from Callen, but he was too bleary-eyed to really check.

_You better be awake._ Deeks sighed and tapped out a reply: _Awake, showered, but dressing and feeding still needed._ He considered flushing the phone, but Hetty would make him fill out more forms. So, instead, he padded back into his room and put on some boxers. Clothes would wait until after he ate as he would probably spill.

He made his way into the kitchen and pulled out a bowl and his box of Honeycomb. Today was a day that called for a sugar kick. The Corn Flakes wouldn't be enough. He poured the milk until the cereal was floating and dug in. The milk leftover got some fresh cereal poured in and he slurped the last bit that remained after. He wasn't fully awake until his stomach was full. He looked up, clear-eyed, at the clock on the stove and gasped. No wonder he was feeling so dumb, it wasn't even 6:00. He had gotten somewhere between two and three hours of sleep.

He grunted and pulled himself out of the chair and walked back to his room. And then walked into the bathroom. This was not going to be a good morning.

* * *

Feeling more awake after the 45 minute drive through the loveliness that is LA traffic, Deeks pulled his car into a short-term parking lot by the airport and found the appropriate tram that would drop him off at the hotel. He figured Callen had something up his sleeve and leaving a car tagged with NCIS GPS right outside what was obviously a secret meet wouldn't aid in that plan.

He slipped through a door, tailgating into the building behind a businessman that was concentrating on his phone and took the stairs to the second floor. There, he found the restaurant and joined the group of people taking the elevator up after finishing their breakfasts. He got off at the 5th floor and followed the arrows to find the right room.

He knocked on the door and called out "Room service" and waited with his hands in his pockets for the chain, deadbolt, and knob to be turned.

Callen stuck his head out and looked at Deeks' hands. "You didn't buy anything this morning, did you?"

Deeks stepped through the door and internally sighed. "Sorry, I didn't know the secret code knock."

"But you didn't buy anything, right?"

"Just a tram ticket to get here from the airport and I did it with cash."

"You parked at the airport?" Deeks nodded. "Good. We're starting on the right foot." Deeks was surprised; that from Callen was a compliment.

Callen motioned him to the table and chairs that was around the corner. It had a pile of papers near the wall but it was more than what Hetty had given him. Deeks set his duffle bag packed with clothes in the corner and pulled his pile of papers out of his messenger bag. It was also bigger than what Hetty had given him. Callen pointed to the coffee pot but Deeks shook his head and veered into the bathroom to grab a glass of water.

Once they were both settled in their chairs, Callen laid out the work he had done the night before and started explaining his plan.

"The packages that Eric and Nell put together are fine, but they're lacking in creativity. They've been told that simplicity is best, as it's easier for us to learn in the short time we're given. However, in order for us to explain why this new arms dealer has appeared so quickly and has the ability to take over a good chunk of the market, we have to go for smart, not simple.

"I like the background, but we and they are going to have to build on them. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it, but an idea popped into my head when you spoke up about playing the arms, not drug, dealer this time."

Deeks face reddened a bit, but Callen smiled and leaned forward.

"I spent a couple hours reviewing the cases where you've gone undercover, including the LAPD files I got access to and you, while type casted as the screw-up, have done a fair share of more, shall we say, threatening roles. I can point to Max Gentry and that little performance of boss and secretary you pulled with Kensi. You do clean up surprisingly well, I might add.

"We're going to put those two sides into one person. I'd like to introduce to you Jakob, or Jake, Smit. In a previous life, he was Jasha Savic, little brother to Mikhail. Now, Mikhail got into the business and when things got a bit hot, he sent his brother to school in the US, specifically business and law school. See, Mikhail saw the writing on the wall when it came to the arms business. Too many people were being bullies, it would be better to gentrify it and work within the system, hence the training in law. With a new plan and way of doing things, Mikhail re-emerges as his own boss and works his own way. Questions?"

"Starting from the top: Smit, not Smith?"

"Smith sounds like an alias, whereas Smit is a common Dutch last name and you and your blonde hair and blue eyes lend yourself to a Dutch name."

"Brother or illegitimate brother?"

"Blood brother; the illegitimate part is a layer of protection between the two."

"So Jake is a lawyer?"

"Not quite. Jake likes to have fun, which is the one part we're pulling in from your past experiences. Jake did manage to double major within law and business, after a year or two extra, but never went for the bar. The bar means a bigger paper trail, which Mikhail doesn't like. Jake is officially a consultant."

"How does the other side fit in?"

At this Callen paused and seemed to gather his words before starting. "Mikhail is ruthless and covers that with a layer of indifference. Jake, being the younger brother is outwardly carefree, but inwardly he's just as ruthless as Mikhail. They each have their faces for their respective audiences, Mikhail with the sellers and buyers and Jake with the general public and business world, but if push comes to shove, they'll do anything to protect each other and the money."

"Would they ever screw each other over for the money?"

"No." Callen said that with certainty. "Growing up with only each other under the fist of mother Russia in an undisclosed part of the USSR made blood thicker than anything."

"Problem: I don't speak a lick of any of those countries' languages."

"Easy, Jake's not supposed to. His people emigrated from Holland after WWII. I know, it's a bit loose, but we'll have to work with it."

"What about the draws of American life, would Jake leave his brother behind for it?"

They stared at each other for a moment and before Callen could answer, Deeks asked another question. "Who is their enemy?"

Callen smiled a small grin as this was an important question. "Russia."

"Then the American dream is part of the fight against Russia, and the draw is a moot point."

"Did you find some loopholes we can work with?"

In response Deeks tapped a sheaf of lined paper with writing scrawled across the pagers.

"All right then, we're going to go to work. I'll pass off the additional backstopping we need done to Eric and Nell. We'll work through the day and then I'll drop you off where you'll be staying for the night as part of your cover." Callen said.

"And where is that?" Deeks asked.

"Rehab."

* * *

**A/N:** Wahoo! This is fun. Next week we'll be back to the regular scheduled Monday posting...Canada Day busted that plan this week.


	3. Day 3

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, there would be more snark-offs between Deeks and Danny from Hawaii 5-O...wait I don't need to own them...pardon me, I must go type.

* * *

**Day 3**

Callen sat in his car waiting for the proper time to begin his drive. He used these moments to review what had happened on the case thus far. The meeting yesterday had gone well. At the end they headed towards their respective cars and made their way to work. Due to the different routes they arrived at different times, covering the fact that they had spent the early morning hours together. Deeks had laughed off the early retreat yesterday as LAPD work and Kensi and Sam had accepted it.

The first thing Callen had done was to bring his notes up to Eric and Nell to have them make the appropriate changes to Deeks' cover. Hetty had called him over at one point and pushed him to explain his actions. Callen had told her the truth; he was both right and wrong at the first briefing as this was a job for partners, only on this one he was going to partner up with Deeks. He was sure that Hetty had taken this as some cosmic sign that he was beginning to trust people and such, but the truth was he saw a lot of himself in Deeks. Not the happy-go-lucky part that thrives off of interaction with people, but the part that wants to push the boundaries set out for him by others. He now believed they had more in common than he was willing to admit at first.

He checked the clock in the car again and settled back into his seat. Eric and Nell had come through and had doctored records that placed Jake Smit in one of the rehab facilities that sprinkled the city that catered to reclusive people with money. Jake was in treatment for recreational drug use and alcoholism. They had agreed that this would allow Deeks an out and he could stay sober for the length of the op. Mikhail needed his brother in top shape for their entrance into the competitive arena of arms dealing.

He checked the clock once again and started up the engine. He had found a parking garage close to the facility and the drive was a short one. As he pulled up to the gate he counted two, possibly three, cars that were loitering. Jake's parole officer had to be informed that the treatment was complete and somehow that file wasn't as encrypted as it could have been. Callen was playing the concerned brother, picking him up and dropping him off at his place. This would give the interested parties confirmation that they could get to Mikhail through Jake. He pulled the car up under the overhang and waited.

Deeks came out of the building with his bag of clothes slung over one shoulder. Callen rolled down the passenger window and Deeks bent down to get a look in.

"Just had an enlightening exit interview with a very caring employee of this fine facility," Deeks grinned, turned and waggled his fingers at a woman who giggled and waved back.

"Get in the car." Deeks just smirked, turned on his heel, bowed at the waist towards the woman, and swung down into the car. Callen powered up the window and tried hard not to glare at Deeks.

Deeks rolled his head towards Callen and getting a faraway look on his face, sighed, and said, "Jake is happy to be clean both for himself and for his friends. He feels that his personal and business life have crossed too much and he needs to find a happy medium between the two. He maintains that those drugs found in his pants couldn't possibly be his because they were someone else's pants." He changed to face of false sincerity, "He's going to try really hard to stay clean and sober."

"Let me guess, you charmed the pants off of her."

"She wasn't wearing pants – it was a skirt." At Callen's glare, Deeks threw up his hands, "I merely played the part of a playboy who got a dose of reality and was going to 'keep with it'...for awhile."

"The irresponsible, younger brother who always needs to be bailed out of trouble that is non-threatening and easy pickings."

"Exactly."

"Perfect, you had time to read over the updates to your file?"

"Yep, they out-did themselves yet again. Is this starting today?"

Callen nodded. "I'm dropping you off at Jake's place. Mingle around the neighbourhood, don't actually watch your back, but keep an eye out. I'll be filling in Kensi and Sam when I get back." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring and a new phone. "Class ring from your alma mater, the techies are quite proud of this one. The ring is a GPS locater but it also has two methods of sending out an agent-in-distress code. One, if the heat sensor in the band goes five degrees below normal human temperature it activates assuming it's been pulled off of your finger. Two, if the phone and ring get separated by more than 20 feet it'll activate. The range of the ring's communication with the phone is the 20 feet. Keep both on you at all times. Hetty's number is in there as 'Mom', the Ops center is 'Uncle Ted', I'm 'Mike', Kensi is 'Fern', and Sam is listed as the 'Sommelier'. The rest of the contacts are either restaurants and bars or numbers that'll route through the Ops centre back to me. If you want to make an agent-in-distress call, dial 'Mr. Carl'. You're not wired, but we're still close."

Deeks nodded slowly and scrolled through the contact numbers. After a moment he lifted his head and said "Let's go."

They drove down the driveway and made mental notes of the cars that seemed to stick with them. Callen would run them by Eric when he returned. They wove through the traffic, Deeks with his head resting against the headrest with his eyes closed. Callen let him catnap as he'd spent the last two nights reading with little sleep. Callen let his mind wander a bit as he waited at a light. He was playing the responsible, focussed older brother and Deeks was the irresponsible, charming brother. Callen wasn't going to kid himself, he had charisma, but the way Deeks could captivate people was a level he'd never achieve. He just hoped he could play the vinegar as well as he did the honey.

Callen nudged Deeks' shoulder. Deeks slowly shook his head back and forth and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Did I sleep?"

"Yeah, but you needed it. We're at your building." Deeks turned and looked at the entrance where the bellhops were moving away from his stand towards the car.

"Am I new here?"

"Yes, the other place didn't appreciate your form of entertainment. Penthouse on the south side." At that he handed him his keys and Deeks nodded. The bellhops pulled open the doors and they exited the car.

Callen turned towards the closest one, "Bag in the trunk, I'm not staying." He walked around the car, prepping to shake Deeks' hand, but Deeks pulled him into a hug instead.

Deeks whispered in his ear as they embraced "disappear after, black Beemer is too interested." With that, Deeks sauntered into the building, leaving the bellhop to scurry after him. Callen mentally shook his head as he got back in the car; they really haven't been giving him enough credit.

* * *

"You're using him as bait?" Kensi was incredulous. "Alone?"

Callen bit back his initial retort that Deeks was a grown man and he was fine. "Actually, he's pulling it off better than I could have imagined. I never realized how much class he had."

Sam grimaced, "Come on G, Deeks? Class? Gas, I could believe. I mean, do you remember the homeless guy episode on that case from Granger?"

"He reduced a bellhop to scurrying and let the door slam on his face. It was quite funny."

Kensi scrunched up her nose, "How is that class?"

Sam sighed and answered, "The Deeks we know and tolerate would have carried his own bag and opened the door for the bellhop. I guess he can do upper crust too."

Hetty chose that moment to appear out of nowhere. "Of course he can, that's why I approved it."

Callen turned towards her, "well it was my idea."

Hetty tipped her head to the side and made eye contact with Callen, "was it, Mr. Callen?" And with that, she left the three to their thoughts.

* * *

Deeks surveyed his new kingdom. It had a gorgeous view of the city with the beach in the distance. If he squinted he could pick out a couple of his favourite surf spots, not that he'd be doing any of that in the foreseeable future. He turned on his heel and headed out of the living space and towards what he assumed was the bedrooms. It was a newish condo that believed in open concept. The living room flowed into the den which flowed into the dining room which flowed into the kitchen. There were absolutely no interior walls between the 'rooms' just strategically placed furniture. He was, however, leery of the glass bookshelf that divided the den from the living room, he had a feeling if he broke it that the money would come out of his paycheck. No rowdy parties at his place.

His instincts were correct and he found himself poking his head into three bedrooms, two guest rooms and one converted into an office, and one and a half baths before stumbling upon the master suite. The view that presented itself as he pushed open the door quite honestly stole his breath. Sights assaulted him from every angle. He froze for a moment, unsure of which instinct to follow up on first. He just wanted to jump on the bed because it looked so comfy, but was drawn towards the wall of windows that positively glowed from the sun's rays. The door into the ensuite was enticing and he was curious to see what the closets were stocked with. His feet headed towards the bathroom first where he sighed in contentment at the clean lines and fluffy towels, his next stop was the closet where he found pricey clothes that Hetty had obviously had a hand in choosing, and he paused at the window and let the heat from the sun warm his face. He closed his eyes and drank in the moment. Then he turned and leapt onto the bed.

Two hours later his phone was beeping from the alarm he set and he rolled onto his back. He had landed on his front, set his phone, and promptly fell asleep. Rejuvenated and refreshed, he took a second look through the closet to find a comfy and appropriate outfit to go fishing in.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the support! I'm thinking Kensi and Sam are going to get their own chapter soon.


	4. Day 4

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I'd be the one pushing the button to blow stuff up, not the stunt guys, because I could.

* * *

**Day 4**

Deeks groaned as he heard his phone buzzing. This time he didn't think about it twice; he pulled one of the extra pillows that were strewn across the bed over his head. When it began to buzz again he muffled his groan by biting down on the pillow. The third time it buzzed his arms flopped onto the bed and he gave in and rolled towards the edge. He blinked in an attempt to moisten his eyeballs. Once he opened his eyes he blinked in attempt to clear his vision. On the third buzz of the fourth call he picked it up and croaked out a 'yeah?' that sounded more like a grunt.

An overly-chipper Callen burst through the phone. "How's the newly-sober Jake feeling this morning?"

Deeks cleared his throat to make his response understandable, "Like he would rather be sleeping than talking."

"Why?" the question held an undercurrent of judgement and censure with a hint of annoyance bordering on anger. It amazed Deeks how much Callen could put in one word.

"Relax, it was my first day out..."

"You make it sound like you were in jail."

"...And there was a lot to fit in; appetizers at one restaurant, dinner at another, dessert at this great little spot, and dancing at two different places. I'd rather be sleeping because of all the caffeine that kept the night going."

"Fine." He could hear the implied sigh that went along with that one word sentence. He wouldn't need all the caffeine if Callen would let him get a decent night of sleep. Callen continued with "anything I should know?"

"Maybe, we'll see what today brings."

"Well, you should probably start getting ready for work."

This time he just let the sigh out. He suppressed the urge to bang his head against the headboard.

"Welcome back."

"Thanks, talk to you later." He tried to temper the sarcasm, but he was too tired to decide whether or not he was successful. He ended the call and hauled himself out of the bed. He was tempted to fall back into the heavenly mattress, but he was sure Callen would just call him back. He hoped that whoever had stocked the pantry had the sense to bring some sugary cereal, because he needed it today.

* * *

The whole wheat flakes and fancy nuts that were masquerading as gourmet cereal passed muster once he dumped half a cup of sugar on them. He was tempted to pull a Kensi and find some donuts of the powdered and jelly persuasion but the building had left him a welcome package and one page caught his eye. He had flipped through the brochure while trying to ignore the taste of his breakfast as it listed the various amenities provided. He dumped his bowl and spoon in the sink, resisting the urge to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. Another page inserted into the back had detailed his maid service and Jake was not one to clean up after himself, both literally and figuratively.

He rifled through his closet and pulled open drawers until he found what he was looking for: a swimsuit. He wanted to hug Hetty when he got back, but he was afraid he wouldn't have any arms left. He grabbed the suit and headed for the elevator, he was going to get a nice swim in before work. He might not be able to surf, but he could work on his butterfly, which was quite difficult in the ocean.

* * *

Half an hour in the pool and he was feeling much better; he realized one was not supposed to swim after eating, but he had started off slow and worked his way up to the hard strokes. Tomorrow he'd hit the pool first.

Here he was again, standing in front of the closet debating clothing choices. When he was himself, it would be plaid button downs, loose long sleeve pullovers, and jeans. Max had preferred grungy T-shirts and lots of leather. Jason lived in gym gear and Dale John Sully, the lawyer, bought cheap suits. Now what did Jake wear?

He flicked through the hangers and searched the drawers, slower this time. He found an assortment of suits, dress pants, dark jeans, button-down shirts, and sweaters. It was a mix that had one defining thing in common; everything was expensive. He pulled a pair of grey dress pants off the hanger, found a dark orange pullover in a soft cotton and searched until he found a button-down that would match. Someone had once told him that blonds looked good in orange. He agreed, he did look good...in orange. The last thing he did before heading out the door was to grab his wallet filled with Jake's cards and checked out his hair, which he had gelled off of his forehead, and his shaving job, he'd cleaned up his beard, in the mirror by the door. He popped open the wallet to read the details off of the drivers license one more time and was surprised to find a post-it note tucked into the same pocket. He palmed it and headed for the elevator. The garbage can in the lobby became the resting place of the crumpled note as he sauntered his way out to the overhang.

The bellhop saw him coming through the doors and called "Mr. Smit, your car will be around in just a moment." Then he scurried off.

Deeks hitched one thumb in his pocket and pulled his phone out with the other hand. He tapped away at it and shifted from foot to foot while he waited. He heard a car pull up in front of him and waited until the sound of the door opening bounced throughout the overhang to look up. But when he did, it was worth it.

As much as he wanted to bounce on his toes and whoop, he only let a small smirk flit across his face.

It was a Jag. A beautiful Jag. Hetty found him a Jag.

He slipped into the driver's seat and ran his hands around the steering wheel. He started up the car and resisted the urge to peel out and instead calmly pulled out into the traffic. For the second time in a matter of an hour he wanted to hug Hetty.

Then it hit him, Hetty set up the op, Eric and Nell set up the backgrounds, Hetty set up the condo and the car. It was a first for him to go undercover with such a wealth of resources behind him. It felt good. He tapped away at the GPS and an address listed under 'Work' popped up. He assumed that was where he should be heading, so he started following the directions. Twenty minutes later he pulled into the underground parking below a converted factory. The post-it had included a parking spot number and the placement of his office space. He found the correct spot, backed the Jag in, grabbed a messenger bag that sat in behind the passenger seat, and climbed out of the car. He walked towards to elevator door, taking the not-quite direct route so that he could familiarize himself with the layout of the garage. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor with his knuckle. He closed his eyes and recalled the sketched out map from the note: down the hall to the end, turn left, second door on the right. That would give him an office with a window.

He opened the appropriate door to find a small-ish room that had a desk complete with a computer and various office supplies with two visitor chairs set against the wall. He scanned the room quickly and then headed through the door set into the wall across from the main door. This room was clearly where the magic happened. There was a large desk with two computer monitors placed in the centre of the room. The other three walls were taken up with a wall of cabinets, some of which were concealing filing drawers, an exposed brick wall with windows extending from waist high to the ceiling, and the last two had various paintings. A set of vintage golf clubs were leaning in the corner and the visitor chairs looked much more comfortable than the ones out in the other room. He sat in the chair behind the desk and wiggled down into the cushion. The back of the chair ended above his head and if he was a betting man, he would put money on that it was bulletproof. He should thank Hetty for making sure his head wouldn't get taken out by a sniper.

Suddenly he sat straight up and his breathing shallowed. Here he was all giddy about all the things Hetty and the rest of the team had done to set up his persona.

Jake was _not_ a giddy person.

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands; he needed to concentrate and fix this now. The advantage of putting together an alias by himself was that he had to take the time to completely lay out who he was playing. As he stocked the living quarters he would consider the person's likes and dislikes. As he picked out the clothes he would decide the person's personality traits. All of these things had been done for him and he hadn't had the opportunity to do so. When he'd gone under for the LAPD the backing was lax, Jason Wyler only had a driver's license as Eric had pointed out.

What he needed to do was to mentally cut himself off from the team and replace them with the aliases he had. He hadn't when he was Justin to Kensi's Melissa, but they were just doing surveillance and the threat of danger was minimal. This time there was the potential for considerable harm and possibly death.

He pulled out the license for Jake Smit and placed it on the desk in front of him.

He didn't have a partner named Kensi, he had a slutty friend named Fern.

He didn't have a teammate named Sam, he knew a guy who was a phenomenal sommelier but could never remember his name.

He didn't have two computer geniuses backing him up, he had an 'uncle' who knew a lot of people.

He didn't have a ninja boss, he had a mother figure somewhere in the Midwest.

He didn't have a teammate who went by G, he had a brother that several nefarious groups wanted to get a hold of and he was the conduit.

He did have a Mr. Carl he could call on in dire emergencies.

He set his elbows on the desk, framing the ID card, clasped his hands, and rested his forehead against his hands. He stared down at the card and repeated who he did have several times. After ten minutes of only focussing on his alias he felt as though he had sufficiently replaced the days of growing an alias with mere minutes of force-feeding it into his brain. He slipped the card back into his wallet and stepped over to the filing cabinets to start his discovery of the office.

In the drawers he found the notes he had made on laws and regulations pertaining to the movement of merchandise. He dropped the files on the desk and sat down to work.

* * *

Deeks, with his final click of his mouse, stored his encoded notes in a secure file on the computer. His job was to plan out several arms delivery routes. The starting points were Eastern Europe or the US and the end points were several parts of Africa, the Middle East, South America, and Asia. The theory was that Mikhail would 'source' the arms from various spots and preferably sell them to people who shared Mikhail and Jasha's likes, or more specifically, dislikes.

He'd had a minor breakthrough when reviewing international shipping laws, but he needed to do a touch more research to make sure his plan would work. If it did, it would cover any possible combination of start and end points and it was all due to one small loophole.

He gathered up the bag he had walked in with, it was now filled with mindless communication he had scavenged from the filing drawers. He set the computer to hibernate and headed out both doors towards the staircase. He'd been sitting so long, even getting a lunch delivered to the office, and wanted to do some walking before sitting back down in the car.

He pushed the crash bar on the door to the garage with his side and moved towards his car. Two steps and he got an itch between his shoulder blades, that one that was usually followed by bad things.

* * *

**A/N I:** Guys, this one was _terrible_; I had to watch the season 2 opener to find out the name of Deeks' alias (it's 25 minutes in). The things I do for research... I was re-amazed by the opening sequence of Callen chasing the faceless man, possibly the coolest sequence in the season.

**A/N II: **Thanks to everyone who's sticking around chapter after chapter. This concludes what I've been considering the intro section and the action starts next chapter. Two hints: it's long and people are gonna die.


	5. Day 5

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, Hetty would Gibbs slap Gibbs. Where do _you_ think he learned it?

* * *

**Day 5**

The ringing of the phone broke Callen's concentration and as a result, the screwdriver slipped down into the spring and got itself stuck. He looked at it hanging, so he left it there as he dug under the parts strewn across the table for the cell. When he found the one making the noise he realized that it was Mikhail's phone and the caller ID was unknown. This was not a development he expected, so he answered it with trepidation.

"Yes" but of course that trepidation did not come through his voice.

The voice that filtered through the phone was not one he recognized...yet. "The elusive Le Renard, I speak to you at last."

"Who?"

"Are we going to play that game?"

"I don't know Blanco del Diablo, or should I call you Diego?"

Eric had come through once again, chasing through the rentals, fake names, and numbered companies to discover the true identity of the people in the black Beemer Deeks had pointed out. Blanco, as it was commonly shortened to, was actually Diego Rojas and he ran a group called _Los Dos Demonios_ which was named for guns and cocaine. They were known for two things: the production of cocaine and fighting against _Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia_ (FARC) which is a guerilla communist movement in their home country of Colombia. Nell had done her part and provided the in-depth analysis of Diego and his bunch and her conclusion was that this was a good place for Mikhail to start. There were two other interested parties, evidenced by the additional tailing cars, but chatter was saying that the LDD had suggested the others step aside, for now. Callen was mostly surprised by how quickly they acted, Deeks and himself had planned on playing this out for at least another week.

"Diego is fine. I shall call you by your contact name on this phone. Hello Dick." Callen grunted to himself, Deeks didn't give up 'Mike', he guessed it was a start, but he was unimpressed by how this was going so far. Diego was still talking, "I have in my possession su hermano pequeño."

_Your little brother_. Callen let his anger slide into his reply, "What!"

His mind was racing; Deeks was supposed to appear to be targetable, not actually get himself kidnapped. He was supposed to flaunt himself around the town, not get kidnapped the second day out. What kind of mess was he creating? But Diego took the anger to signify that 'Dick' was worried for his brother.

"This one, he is not as he appears. He killed two of my men and another will be paralyzed. Well, he is going to be dead soon." Diego discussed death as if it was a menu item at his local cafe.

Callen, on the other hand, snapped straight up in his chair. Deeks killed essentially three of the LDD's? He had gone under unarmed. Questions raced through his head, but Diego was still talking.

"Also, to get this number, it was not easy. There is this...persuasion technique I learned from the filthy towel heads. Cómo se dice...how you say...waterboarding. To get the name was twice as long as the Navy SEAL I first saw the technique on. He is a dangerous man."

Callen turned his voice to ice, "Where is he?" Too many thoughts were running through his head; he would finish the call and then process them.

"We meet and we will talk business, no?"

"We will meet, but we will not talk business, not yet. Not until he is back with me."

"Okay. He is in his car at his office. I will copy this number and leave the phone and my number with him." Suddenly the deadly Diego came out to play when he added, "do not wait long to call, I know of more techniques and I will grab him again if necessary."

Callen heard the call end and sat and stared at the phone in his hand. He looked at his other hand, wondering why it hurt and found a screw digging into his palm. He surveyed the various toaster pieces still lying on the table and decided it would have to wait. He grabbed his coat and his keys for one of the rented cars and headed out the door of Mikhail's short term rental.

He was pulling into the lot half an hour later. The rental was closer, but he took a circuitous route so that Diego wouldn't be able to back track him. He pulled up in front of the Jag and saw Deeks slumped down in the driver's seat. He wrapped around to his passenger door and pulled it open. He then turned to Deeks' door and found it unlocked. Deeks' eyes were shut and they didn't open when he poked him, but he did stir slightly. Callen leaned him forward and wrapped his arm around Deeks' back and placed his shoulder under his. Bearing most of Deeks' deadweight he half dragged, half pulled him over to the idling car. He jogged back to the Jag and when he scouted the interior, he found the messenger bag lying on the passenger seat so he grabbed it as well. He locked the Jag and shut the door. He got back into his car and pulled out of the garage.

He made a couple corners and confirmed he had a tail. He tugged the phone out of Deeks' jacket pocket and found Diego's number listed under Blanco and he dialed it.

"Shall we talk?" came Diego's opening line.

"No. You've disrespected me once by attacking my brother. Don't make the mistake of disrespecting me again by attempting to follow me home."

A theatrical Latino sigh came through the line, "you Europeans and your secrets. Fine, I call them off."

Callen ended the call and watched behind him as two of the cars pulled off, however the third stayed. That was fine, he did some tricky turns and lost it not long after. He reached over and pulled up Deeks' hand and found the ring firmly pushed onto his finger. At the next stop light Callen worked it off and stuck it up against the vent that was blowing cold air. That would signal that Deeks was in trouble and the first call would be to Callen. He waited for his personal phone to ring and picked it up on the second buzz.

"I have him Hetty, but we're going to need a doctor."

* * *

Callen watched as Hetty packed up her supplies. Normal procedure would be that they would have met at the boat shed, but Hetty had stated it wasn't safe enough there. They both stared at Deeks as he melted back onto the couch in the bullpen. His one eye was swelling shut, he had a split lip, and a bruised jaw. His knuckles were bleeding and from the way he was moving he was going to be stiff for the next few days.

Hetty spoke, "you don't have a concussion but I want to hold off on the painkillers until we understand fully what transpired." At this Deeks nodded. Callen was starting to get a bit worried, Deeks hadn't spoken since he woke up in the car and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Callen leaned forward, "Deeks," he drew out the vowels.

In response he held up his hand, "Lungs...hurt. Shower first." With that he pushed himself off the couch and stumbled a bit. Callen resisted reaching out to steady him, knowing that action would be the last thing he would want. Deeks steadied himself and headed in the direction of the gym.

Once he was out of sight, Callen turned to Hetty and said, "you a doctor now?"

Hetty clasped her hands behind her back and looked to the floor, "oh, Mr. Callen."

Callen shook his head, "I know. Forget I asked. Tea?"

"Tea."

* * *

They were finishing off the pot when Deeks came back out of the bathroom. Callen thought that he was trying for a saunter, but it was coming off more like a limp. His hair was wet and the smeared blood had been cleaned off. With fresh clothes from that original bag, he appeared as though he had just come off of a difficult take-down, not a lonely run-in with a Colombian guerilla squad. He dropped into the chair beside Callen at Hetty's desk and failed to cover up a wince.

Hetty stood and placed a cup in front of him, "Have a drink of this, I know it's not that tar you call coffee, but it will soothe your throat." At Deeks' look of hesitation, she said "Go on before I decide something requires stitches" and held up a needle preloaded with thread.

Deeks grimaced when he took a sip and looked surprised as he swallowed.

Callen smiled and leaned over to stage whisper "I sweetened it with some scotch." Hetty gave him a look from across the table. She was just keeping up appearances; she had handed Callen the bottle.

* * *

Callen sat at his desk and watched Deeks sleep off the various injuries on the couch. He was officially never going to underestimate Deeks again. It had been quite the story and he was impressed. He now understood why Hetty had arranged this op the way she did. Because as much as he hated to admit it, she had played him from the start. He was sure if Deeks hadn't made the comment he did, she would have manipulated the situation so that something similar would have been arranged. He ran over the conversation one more time as he waited for the rest of the team to come in.

_Deeks slurped up the rest of his 'tea' and carefully placed the cup on the saucer. Callen noted how he was controlling his movements, much like a drunk would be overly careful about how he walks. Deeks was covering up something, but for the time being Callen would let him._

_ Deeks blew out a breath, took a big one back in and launched into his tale._

_ "I worked for the day and around six I decided I had put in enough time. I figured I could start my rounds of the restaurants and clubs at eight so I headed down to the garage. I took the stairs and a couple steps out into the lot I got a bad feeling and obviously I was right because the next thing I know, I'm lying in the back of a van. I played possum for the ride, listening in. It was then that I realized it was the Colombians. At first I tried to get an idea of where we were based on the stops and sounds, but after a while I realized that was hopeless. So instead I tried to wiggle and stretch as much as I could to get ready to do whatever if an opportunity came._

_ "We finally pulled into a building and they dragged me out of the back, since I was pretending to still be unconscious, I was completely limp and it took two of them to get me out. By peeking I found out that they had formed a semi-circle around the back of the van and the guys were packing handguns. My hand conveniently ended up brushing the guy on my right's holster, so I decided that was my opportunity." At this he paused and glanced back and forth between Hetty and Callen, "uh, how much detail do you want?"_

_ "We need to know everything, it doesn't have to be right now, but it has to be before you go back out" Hetty provided._

_ Deeks nodded, "Best to get it out now then." He scratched his head and continued, "so, uh, my hand by the holster. I grabbed the gun and wrapped my arm around the other guy's neck and started firing into the crowd. I emptied the clip and pulled the other guy's gun when I got tasered from behind. Someone must have snuck around into the van once the bullets started flying."_

_ "So...you used a gang member as a human shield? And randomly fired into a crowd?" Callen wanted some clarification since Diego had said that Deeks had killed two and injured one of his men._

_ "Well, Jake Smit isn't one to negotiate when the rubber hits the road and isn't that what henchmen are for?"_

_ "Diego said that two of his men are dead and one is paralyzed because of you."_

_ Deeks head snapped up and his eyes were wide, "what? I wasn't actually aiming to kill, I was just spraying ammo. I was trying to make it look like I was...well..."_

_ "Ruthless" Hetty supplied. Deeks gazed at her and then slowly nodded. "I guess if they were too slow to get out of the way, it was their own fault. Did anyone fire back?"_

_ "I think so, wait," he pulled up his shirt and pressed his fingers to a round bruise on his rib cage, "this one was during the firefight."_

_ Callen leaned forward and looked at it, "yep, that could be caused by a round going through your shield. So one death was probably friendly fire. I don't think Diego's the kind of boss to worry about fixing up someone stupid enough to end up as a shield for an unconscious man."_

_ "Or ones that were hit because they didn't move fast enough. I sign this off as a good shoot." Hetty mimed rubber stamping the pages on her desk._

_ One corner of Deeks' mouth turned up in a weak smile. Callen could see he was going to carry the guilt; he would have to have a talk with him later. It was one thing to shoot and kill a man that was trying to do the same, but it was different to shoot someone who was unaware of the danger._

_ It was Hetty who focussed them back on the task at hand; "What happened after the tasering?"_

_ "It must have been a heavy-duty one because I blacked out again."_

_ Hetty tipped her head to the side slightly, poising to ask a question, but Callen beat her to it: "how come the agent-in-distress alarm sound?"_

_ "He's getting to it, aren't you Mr. Deeks?" she turned her head towards to Callen and pursed her lips. She had known better than to ask. Callen turned his torso towards Deeks and ignored the pursing._

_ Deeks squinted at Hetty and Callen, he looked slightly puzzled. "Yeah, well, the second time I woke up from the taser I was sitting in a chair with my hands tied behind my back and a fist coming at my face. A fist that was wearing my ring. Whoever it was, I guess he thought it would be funny to beat me with my own ring. I remember seeing my jacket thrown into a corner, so the alarm didn't sound. I preferred the way I woke up from the first time." Deeks stared off into the distance; he appeared to be thinking about the events following that fist. His brow would furrow and release while his mouth turned down. "It's fuzzy after that. It's more like flashes and spurts." He broke off, finding a different point to stare at._

_ Hetty nodded. "I think we have enough." She pulled a pillow up from beside her and handed it over. "Take a nap and we'll regroup in" she checked her desk clock, "four hours to decide where to go from here."_

_ Callen holds his hand out to stop Deeks from getting up and looks at him hard. "One question first; Diego mentioned waterboarding," he paused to find the right words, "how...?"_

_ Deeks gave a tiny smirk, "Diego and his goons got nothing on the Pacific Ocean. I was under water longer the last time I went surfing." He winked at Hetty and then pushed himself out of the chair and stiff-legged his way towards the couch._

_ Hetty and Callen locked eyes; Hetty squinted and Callen dipped his chin. They were happy to see that a sliver of Deeks peek out from behind the bruises. They watched as he dropped himself on the couch and wiggled down into the cushions. They shrugged at each other, agreeing to see what time would bring and then make some decisions. Callen headed towards his desk and Hetty tugged out some files to work on._

He walked over to the couch and tugged the blanket up over Deeks' shoulder. Hetty had put some cream on the black eye and the swelling was going down, but he was going to have a wicked-looking bruise. A contemplative smile flickered across Callen's face; Deeks looked both younger and older when he slept. Sam had once mentioned that Callen looked the same when he slept. Sam, on the other hand, looked like stone while he slept and Kensi just burrowed down until you couldn't see her face. He had a feeling that Hetty never slept, so he assumed she looked the same as she did every other moment of the day, a riddle wrapped up in a mystery inside an enigma clutching a hand grenade.

* * *

He had long finished his paperwork and was wasting time on his laptop when people began to straggle in. Sam was first and sent him a questioning look and pointed at the shape on the couch. Callen held a finger to his lips to signal Sam to keep quiet. Callen planned on briefing them somewhere else and letting Deeks sleep; he was starting to feel guilty about all the sleep he hadn't been getting due to this case. He figured Deeks hadn't had a full night of sleep in a week. Better to not poke when you don't know if it's a bear or kitten on the other side.

That plan got shot to pieces when Callen walked back from the bathroom to see Kensi poking and shaking Deeks shoulder in an obvious attempt to wake him up. Callen hurried his last few steps and ended up beside Sam who stood cross-armed and watching.

Suddenly Deeks rolled his upper half so that he was looking Kensi square in the face. He pierced her with a hard look and ground out between his teeth "How about instead of interrupting my slumber, you go make yourself useful and get me an egg white omelette – asparagus, Portobellos, and asiago. And don't forget the Italian Roast." Kensi froze, shocked and awed. "Fetch!" and with that, Deeks rolled back and promptly fell back asleep.

Kensi slowly turned and faced Callen and Sam who were trying hard to hold back their laughter and smirking hard. Callen motioned them to follow him and lead them to the wardrobe storage.

"I would like to introduce to you Jake Smit, brother to Mikhail. He's a feisty one."

Kensi was still attempting to process what just happened. "He told me to 'fetch'."

"He's not Deeks, Kens. He had a hard night."

Kensi let out a snort, "hanging out with women in clubs, yeah, real hard."

Callen slid a look out of the side of his eyes. "He got worked over really hard by some Colombians. Try to give him some slack."

She rolled her eyes, and said "fine."

"Kensi, it was bad."

When she met his eyes, she saw how serious he was and let out a small 'oh'.

He nodded to Sam and said, "well, you have what you need to do. When you get back, we'll plan out what you'll need to do. This has blown up faster than we anticipated so there's some catching up to be done."

Kensi furrowed her brow and slowly asked, "what do we have to do?"

Sam looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to the door. "I'll get the omelette, you find the coffee, and remember: Italian Roast, not the gunk on the bottom of the pot." He shushed her protests and guided her towards the door.

* * *

All seven gathered around the table in the weapons room at the end of the day. Eric and Nell shifted and bumped against each other as they worked away on their tablets. Hetty, in contrast, stood perfectly still with her hands clasped behind her back. Sam stood with his arms crossed and his feet shoulder-width apart and watched Callen as he looked at Deeks out of the corner of his eye. Kensi leaned against a wall on the opposite side of the room as Deeks, still pouting a bit from his order in the morning. Deeks, who had spent most of the day sleeping, was looking somewhat better. The bruising and cuts on his face were a variety of colours and he was still wincing if he moved too quickly.

The thing that had everyone shocked was that Deeks had barely spoken when awake. It had taken Callen a time to decide on the proper adjective, and he had narrowed it down to a few when Hetty had jumped him in the hallway outside the bathrooms and spoken one single word.

"Aloof"

Callen had nodded, "he's trying to stay in character, to not lose the alibi."

Hetty had pursed her lips and provided, sagely, "something you must start." And with that she had turned and walked towards her desk.

Callen turned to face the group and laid out what had been decided over the course of the day. "Tomorrow's Saturday, and we're taking the weekend off. I'll be dropping Deeks off at the condo."

Deeks spoke up, "office instead, need the car." Nell and Eric, who had not seen Deeks all day, looked confused and somewhat concerned at the abruptness of the statement. Instead of asking, they made a silent agreement to go back to their computers.

"Fine. He'll be working the socials all weekend, which will mean restaurants, bars, and events. I'll be prepping to call Diego on Monday or Tuesday, to set up a meet. Sam and Kensi will be partnering up for the remainder of this op and there are a couple of leads that will need to be chased down starting Monday. Hetty has the list." He looked around the group.

Suddenly, Hetty sprung from her place of stillness and was beside Deeks. She tugged up his shirt and poked at his abdomen. His face contorted in pain and he inhaled sharply, which caused a new wave of pain to run across his face.

"You cracked a rib and didn't tell me." She accused, "you thought you could hide it?"

"No..." she prodded the same spot with her fingers. "Ow!" he exclaimed.

She tugged on the handful of shirt she still had in her hand and lead him out of the room. "Come, I'll get you some anti-inflammatories for that" she turned and pierced him with a glare, "and you _will_ take them, along with the other pain medication and hot/cold treatments. I need you in good shape."

Deeks turned his head toward the group and mouthed 'help me' as he rounded the door jamb.

They heard from the hallway, "they cannot help you, now come willingly or I'll crack another."

Nell was the first to break into giggles, Kensi soon followed. Tension broken, they each headed out for the weekend, preparing to rest up for another week.

* * *

**A/N:** Phew! That was a long one. Now: FARC is real, LDD is not and Columbia does have a history of communism. The quote about Hetty being 'a riddle wrapped up...' is from Season 3 Episode 2 (Cyber Threat).


	6. Day 6

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, my class mascot, a longhorn (preferably life-sized), would be somehow worked into the storyline.  
**A/N:** Thanks to shestarsky, keviana, Msreadalot71292, and Sweet Lu for your reviews! Life is getting busy so my replying is lacking, but they are much appreciated.

* * *

**Day 6**

Sam and Kensi sat in their respective desks and stared at each other. The day had started like any other, people trudging in still in the soft glow of weekend relaxing while trying to ignore the fact that the work week had started again. Only this time there were two empty desks in the bull pen. Still, not unheard of, as Deeks was usually late usually due to good surfing or a hot blond discovered during his run. Callen never showed up at the same time two days in a row, sometimes he was overly early and sometimes a bit late.

So, when Eric had whistled down and Sam and Kensi trudged up the stairs without their partners, it wasn't the weirdest feeling in the world. Hetty had been up there, ready with a briefing and assignments. And that's where the day started to become not like any other.

Hetty motioned to the wall-sized screen which showing a collage of Latino faces. "These are the first group of our present targets. Each one has been confirmed to be a part of LDD and we have names, addresses, family connections, status in the gang, et cetera. These," she nodded to Nell, who switched the faces out with a new group, "are people that have often been found in the same pictures as the first group. Due to a lack of criminal record in the US and a shaky relationship with Colombian authorities, we're not sure who they are. This needs to change." She turned to Nell again who took over.

She tapped on her tablet and sent pictures of a strip mall up on top of the faces. "This area is known as the LDD's safe house. The businesses are legit, but if you actually measure the inside and the outside of the building you'll find that they don't stretch to the full depth, even accounting for storage rooms in the back. We believe that the American side of their operation is run out of that extra space.

"These heat scans were taken over the weekend, and the pictures are inconclusive. We have been able to estimate the space to be approximately 2,000 square feet."

Sam leaned back against the table, "that's a big space to be completely undetectable."

"Correct, Mr. Hanna. Your job is to detect it, as well as match as many faces to names as possible."

Eric, who was sitting in his chair, swiveled side to side and pointed at the picture of the mall. "Address is on your phone."

* * *

As they walked back down the stairs, Kensi pulled up said address on her phone. She read it off to Sam and he grimaced, it wasn't exactly the nicest part of town for him. Kensi would blend with her dark hair and eyes, but that was a definite Latino community and he could not pass himself off as Latino. They were going to have to be creative.

They grabbed their bags and headed out to the parking lot.

Where they each walked up to the driver's door of their own cars.

Kensi turned and looked at Sam over the roof of his Challenger. "We can't take your car, it's too memorable."

"My car's too memorable? Yours is a blinding silver Caddy."

"Drug dealers drive Cadillac's all the time."

Sam cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Not ones like that, the Escalades. They'd use yours for parts."

Kensi shrugged her shoulders and held up her hands, palms up. "Well then, what do you suggest we take?"

"Well we can't take the van, it'll get made right away." He looked around the parking lot and his eyes bounced from car to car. Finally they landed on an old 2-door Grand Am that looked like it was in surprisingly good shape for its age. It was a dark silver colour and the windows were tinted. It was clearly an older car, partly because they weren't manufactured any more, but the fact that it was well cared for suggested an owner that was invested in keeping it in running condition. He pointed at it, "that one; who's is it?"

Kensi stared at it, curious, "I don't know, maybe one of Hetty's?"

They trudged back into the building and found Hetty at her desk opening mail with the infamous letter opener.

Sam asked, "Hetty, we can't take either of our cars, and the van won't work. What about that Grand Am in the back corner, is that available?"

Hetty thought for a moment and then nodded. "The owner of that car is not using it presently, and you are right, it is the perfect car for the job. However, I warn you not to damage it in any way as the costs will come out of your salaries."

Kensi bit her tounge to stop her from asking whose car it was; she had a feeling Hetty wouldn't tell her anyway. Hetty got up and told them she would meet them there with the keys.

Sam and Kensi walked back to the cars, picked up their bags from where they dropped them, and continued on to the car, where they both walked to the driver's side.

They were both standing there when Hetty walked up with the keys. Clearly they both wanted to voice their opinions as to who should drive, but couldn't quite find the words.

"Now this is a wrinkle. Who will be doing the driving?" Hetty's eyes twinkled with amusement as they shifted between the two sheepish agents in front of her. "I suggest a comprimise. Mr. Hanna drives there and Miss Blye drives back." The new partners nodded in agreement and Sam took the keys from Hetty. They settled in and headed out towards the plaza.

* * *

Sam was finishing his third origami swan while Kensi munched on chocolate covered almonds. They had been watching the strip mall for two hours and had uncovered several unchangeable truths:

1. Sam was going to stick out like a sore thumb unless they came up with a good cover.  
2. There was no breaking into the storage area; it was too well guarded with too many people.  
3. They had confirmed the nameless faces where hanging around.  
4. They were going to need solid covers to get in long enough to find out their names.  
5. The restaurant was emitting some very delicious smells and they were getting hungry for a meal, not snacks.

With that, Sam started up the car and readied it to pull out. Kensi looked at him, hard. "You can drive all day today, but tomorrow, you're the passenger."

Sam pretended not to hear, but when Kensi punched him in the arm he glanced over at her and said, "Is this why it always seems Deeks is listing to one side? Always injured on that side?" At her glare, he gave in and added, "Fine, the driving's yours tomorrow."

* * *

They leaned up against the edge of Callen's desk and stared at the white board that they had unearthed from a forgotten corner. They split the board in half and 'Kensi' was written at the top on one side and 'Sam' on the other. The new partnership called for fresh techniques.

The ride back to Ops had consisted of them batting ideas back and forth of how to weasel their way into the compound. They had nothing solid by the time Sam parked the car, so they decided on the whiteboard. On Sam's side there was a neat bullet point list in blue marker whereas Kensi's side was more 'organic'; there were random words scrawled in the empty spaces formed by other scrawled phrases in red, green, blue, and orange.

Sam turned to Kensi and held out a black marker while he kept another for himself. They switched sides and stared at the other list. After a short while, first Sam and then Kensi pushed themselves off the desk and crossed off some of the ideas with the marker. They settled back, stared some more, and a few more ideas got crossed off before Kensi capped her marker and looked over at Sam. He tipped his head to the side, moved to cross off one more idea, and then capped his marker as well.

Sam crossed his arms and said, "Alright, let's take stock. On your side there is: looking for waitress job, illegal immigrant wanting to get family in, and reporter looking for a story. Here's what I think, you'd be a terrible waitress and that would get you in touch with the public, not our targets. The smuggler route is good, but it's a long game and we need a short one. The news story idea is best, but what if instead of a reporter we do a professor or researcher of poly-sci, social justice, or the like. I think they'd open up more if the information's going to be a research project as opposed to front page news."

Kensi pursed her lips and then grinned, "You think I could pass myself off as a professor?"

"Focus. Clearly Deeks has been influencing you."

She pouted. "Whatever. I like that angle. Social justice is a hot topic these days and Columbia doesn't have the worst track record, so it'd be a new experience for them. Now for you." She squinted and scanned the board. "I found only two that I think is viable: the charity wanting to put in a soccer field or the developer for that piece of land for sale."

"I think they might be a bit suspicious if two new people show up that want to do something for them."

"I agree. Real estate it is, but, I can always hold the idea for a new soccer field in reserve if I feel the need to bribe them a bit."

Kensi nodded, "let's go get Eric and Nell on it."

"Tomorrow, we invade."

* * *

**A/N I:** But seriously, between the two...who would drive?  
**A/N II:** Next week we're back to Deeks and man, does he have a story to tell. Speaking of next week, it's a long weekend so the update might not come until Tuesday. It will come, though, I promise!


	7. Day 7

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, Monty would show up more often.  
**A/N:** So I was a bit sad, only one person (jmlane1966) left me a note on the last chapter. I don't really crave reviews, but it's nice to know someone's still reading this. The last chapter wasn't the best thus far, but I think this one'll make up for it. Warning, the sentence-fragment-munchkin came out to play.

* * *

**Day 7**

Deeks shuffled the papers around on his desk until they had formed piles in a certain order. He blew out a breath and grabbed for his empty pad of paper. It was time to get some real work done.

The weekend had been a hazy mess of people, places, and meaningless conversations. Keeping his cover interacting with snobbish people while heavily medicated had left him drained come Monday morning. He had spun his facial wounds into a story about a boxing match that had ended with him earning a big chunk of change which he had supposedly spent during the two days of hard partying. He had gone back to the condo and collapsed into a deep sleep. He had kept up appearances and driven to the office, where he had done the prescribed heating and cooling and polished off the last of the medications that he was going to take. This morning, however, he had awoken with a clear mind and willingness to get moving.

With that direction in mind, he picked up his pen and clicked it.

Suddenly, like a hole being poked through a black-out curtain, he saw clearly in his mind the shoot out. He watched as his arm wrapped around a guys neck and the other held up the pistol to shoot. He saw two men fall, the one was third from the right and the other was directly in front of him. He clenched his hand around the pen and bit down on his tongue to pull himself out of the flashback. He twisted around to see the shades pulled down on the window, blocking anyone from seeing in and swung back to check that the door was locked.

That was as much as he could do before he was sucked back into the memories. He gasped and grabbed for the desk as his mind pulled him under against his heart's will.

* * *

He didn't lie to Hetty and Callen, his recall of the night had been patchy and had come in bits and spurts. But now the night lay before him like a film spool unreeling down a long hallway.

The first image was the fist coming at his face.

The man laughed and jeered at him as Deeks slowly shook his head to clear out the last bits of cobwebs in his brain. The man, he would call him Thing 1, backed up and knocked on the door behind him. In came two more men, Things 2 and 3. What they lacked in height, they made up in stockiness. They were, as the saying goes, built like a brick shithouse. Where that term came from or what it actually meant, was unclear to Deeks, but these men were solid.

They slowly began to circle around Deeks, speaking in their native dialect and occasionally bursting out in hideous laughter. The first hit came from behind and landed in his left kidney. The next, from the front into his right shoulder. More and more hits came from every which angle and landed in random places. He figured out very quickly their ploy; they would keep circling and the hits would come from various spots from different Things in an attempt to keep him off-balance.

It was working. He began to flinch with every noise.

In between two hits to his back, he did some deep breathing, and quickly regretted it. He closed his eyes and tuned out the Things and thought hard.

Many years ago, he had made a decision. While he wasn't a deeply religious person, or very good at church attendance (he blamed that on his job), he had rejected atheism as remotely possible. He had decided that the crappy events and trials he had gone through couldn't possibly happen due to chance. He wasn't willing to accept that there weren't reasons why things happened. Or why Things happened. If he was going to get through this, he had to dig deep and find the reasons and hold tightly to them.

One more hit.

Two more hits.

More circling.

His brain unlocked. The circling and the hitting. Third grade. There were these bullies that had a similar technique; they had picked him because he was scrawny and probably looked as hungry as he usually felt. They would circle around and take turns pounding on him. How had he survived them? By hanging in and tucking his chin and absorbing the blows. After some time they had decided that he was tougher than he looked and left him alone.

That would be his strategy here as well. He tucked his chin and let his brain find a rabbit hole and give chase. The punches to the body, the kicks with booted foot to the legs and knees, and the slashes with a stick to the arms rained down, but Deeks was far away, driving the backwoods in a convertible, blasting music, and feeling the wind and sound rip away his concerns.

After an unknown length of time, a sound fought its way through the haze in his brain and brought him back to reality. His eyes slowly focussed on the three Things standing in front of him. They were gesturing and pointing and shrugging while having what looked and sounded like a heated discussion. A hard glare came from Thing 2 and then they turned and walked out, slamming the door behind them.

Assuming he'd been left alone for a reason, he took advantage of his solitude and took stock of his body. He started by wiggling his toes, gently jostling his knees, and working his hips up and down.

Legs: bruised, but able to function, no breaks.

He waggled his fingers, twisted his wrists, squirmed his elbows back and forth, and rolled his shoulders.

Arms: battered, but still useable, no breaks.

He carefully tipped his head side to side, moved his tongue through his mouth, and worked his jaw. He couldn't feel it since his hands were tied behind his back so he did the best he could.

Head: swollen, cut up, but his mind was still clear.

He turned his shoulders in the opposite direction as his hips and then back the other way. That was when the pain hit.

Torso: not in good condition, weakest part of body.

He shallowed his breathing and looked down. Apparently they had removed his shirt, and his chest looked like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains. The hills and valleys lay out in different colours stretching from his shoulders down to his waist. However, he was comforted by the fact that only part of his back would look as bad, as the open back chair still had cross pieces that protected a strip low on his shoulders. Small mercies.

Evaluation of the physical complete, he moved onto the mental. He was feeling mostly clear, but there was a hint of ringing that persisted in his left ear and it would distract him at times. He dropped his head to his chest and breathed in Jake and breathed out Deeks. With each breath he dropped himself further into the mindset of his alias and relegated his own personality into a back corner of his brain and built a wall around it. He raised his head when he felt like he was ready and not a moment too soon, because it appeared he was no longer going to be alone.

The Things came in first in single file. They spread out to form a line and from behind the middle one, Thing 3, a man stepped out. He was about the same height but not as wide as the Things, but the way he carried himself, he was much more imposing. There seemed to be an air of feralness swirling around him. He stationed himself directly in front of Deeks and planted his feet. They stared at each other; Deeks blinked lethargically and tried to control his breathing to limit the flashes of pain that made their way up to his face.

Finally, the man's lips split and exposed his teeth. Deeks would swear that his canine teeth were unnaturally long and pointed.

Deeks mentally shivered.

The man rolled his head side to side and then clasped his hands behind his back. "Hello Jake." The Spanish pronunciation of the 'j' made it sound more like 'yake', but Deeks caught his drift.

"Whatever."

He looked amused. "I agree, I have been rude. Normally I would introduce myself before ordering a beating, but you created some chaos I had to clean up." He held an arm to his stomach and preformed a mock bow, "I am Diego."

Deeks did a slow blink.

"You have some information I desire."

Deeks raised his eyebrows as if to say 'so?'.

"I follow you around all night, you don't stop talking. I get you alone and you do not want to talk. Is it me?"

Deeks rolled his eyes.

"It's my men. I agree. A mature conversation should be _hombre a hombre_." He flapped his hands and the Things left the room and closed the door behind them.

Deeks stared straight ahead; a man-to-man conversation would require two men in the room.

"Tell me how to contact Mikhail Savic."

"No."

Diego cocked an eyebrow. "It occurs to me that you will not be intimidated by fists of fury. _Bueno_...fine. We try this another way."

Deeks picked a point on the wall above Diego's shoulder and stared at it.

Diego left the room, shutting off the lights as he did.

Deeks, secure that any cameras planted in the room would be unable to pick up facial expressions even if they were infrared, stopped controlling his facial expressions. He grimaced and let a silent groan rip through his teeth. Now that he'd been forced back to reality, the pain was setting in deep. The muscles that stretched across his abdomen were protesting every breath and there were some ribs that were cracking in unnatural ways. The way his arms were bound behind his back didn't allow him to lean forward, which would take some of the pressure off and maybe give some relief.

He had a choice to make, stretch his wrists and roll his shoulders to lean forward as much as he could. This would rest his chest, but hurt his hands. If he escaped and needed to defend himself, he'd need his hands at some point. However, elbows and knees and head butts could do major damage as well. He chose to give his torso a break and stretched forward as much as he could.

When the pain became too unbearable, he leaned back again, resting his arms. He leaned forward, he leaned back. He lost track of how many times he repeated, but he was now able to take shallow breaths without stars sparking in his vision.

A sound came from the direction of the door and he sat back quietly and waited for what the snake had planned next. He didn't wait long as the lights flared on and he automatically slammed his eyes shut. After waiting in the dark, his eyes had adjusted and the bright light seared right through to his brain.

They, who he assumed was Diego with his three goons, bagged his head with what smelled like a burlap sack and kicked his chair back. His head slammed against the concrete floor and the combined weight of the chair and himself landed painfully on his arms. His wrists were saved from breaking because of their position; they were tied low and when he tipped his butt lifted off the chair and they slid between it and the chair seat. He was sure there were bruises on his forearms from the back of the chair. Someone stepped on his shoulder, and since his arms were acting as a fulcrum, the bottom of the chair and his legs tipped off of the ground and into the air.

His eyes still shut, he focussed on breathing in through his mouth and breathing out through his mouth.

When he stopped breathing all together.

It wasn't as if he wanted to stop breathing as that was an instinct that one was born with. He would have preferred to breathe more shallow than the average breath, but he didn't want to stop all together. It was that he _couldn't_ breathe. He opened his mouth, or tried to open his mouth but there was something stopping it. He tried his nose, but it wouldn't take in any air either. His brain synapses fired sending urgent messages to get oxygen into his body, but everything he tried had failed. His abdomen muscles stopped protesting, but his lungs were burning.

Suddenly, the hold broke and he hauled in one big breath. Going for another proved disastrous.

Water sluiced down his face and into his open mouth and up his nose. The angle he was on ensured that little of it went down his throat into his lungs but it was effectively cutting off his air supply. Lungs burned again.

Just as suddenly the water stopped and he coughed and spat and then hauled in one breath only to have the next one taken away by another flood of water.

No air, lungs burning.

Water stopped, coughing, hacking, air!

No air, brain buzzing.

Air!

No air, vision foggy.

Air...

No air, blackness creeping in to take hold and pull him down.

Somewhere in his brain, a part that was still functioning, a slap across the face registered.

One breath. Two breaths and then three. Four! The blackness faded away and his senses took over. In a matter of nanoseconds the information was sent to his brain, which was creeping out of survival shut-down mode.

Vision: none.

Hearing: random taps, incoherent mumbling.

Smell: clogged due to excessive water uptake.

Feel: pain.

Taste: salt.

Salt...salt...salt and water. Salt water! His brain unlocked: salt water up his nose and in his mouth in an uncontrollable manner. Where has this happened before? Sunny skies and bright colours, sand tickling his toes and the feel of wet against his skin. A hard surface under his feet but it rocked in an unpredictable way.

Surfing.

How many times had the unforgiving ocean dumped him into a wave and pulled him under.

He heard liquid sloshing in a pail, but this time he readied himself the same way he would if he was on a one-way ticket to a face-plant in the sea.

No air. Water gushing down his face.

Air. Gasp for breath, but wait, the ocean isn't done yet.

Under.

Above.

Under.

Above.

Vicious cycle. He was holding on, but the grasp was becoming tenuous. He needed a break to strengthen his grip. He needed it NOW.

Air...more air. The break he was craving. The chair shot up in the air to the upright position. It rocked a bit on the legs and then found even ground. The hood was ripped off and through bleary eyes he could make out Diego's teeth.

"Tell me how to contact Mikhail Savic."

He coughed and spat, trying to both buy time to recover and desperately remember the contingency plan he'd come up with in this situation.

"Tell me!"

"Tom." He eeked out.

"What is this Tom?"

"His number's...listed...under Tom."

"You lie."

The wet hood was smacked back onto his head and the chair flew back. The cycle started again. As much as he tried to stay in control, it was lost early on. He was just trying to get in as much oxygen as he could when he could. Time stopped being linear as what should have felt like seconds lasted for hours. But wait, were those seconds actually hours? How long had this been going on? He tried to figure it out, but surviving was more important. Breathe when there is air, don't breathe when there isn't. He fought and fought until he could not fight any longer. When he finally felt himself go limp, there was only one coherent thought left in his mind.

"What's the real name it's listed under?"

He didn't know if he was up, down, sideways, or dead. One word escaped his lips before he fell into the deep, dark, hole.

"Dick."

* * *

Deeks groaned and when he started to move, he stopped. He opened his eyes, blinked rapidly to clear his vision and found himself staring at the ceiling of the office. He raised his head slightly and looked around. The chair he was sitting on had rolled to the wall and he was lying on the ground. His arms and legs were tangled up with each other and with the desk. When he went to move them, they tingled in protest. He moved them to wake them up and after some time he sat up and pulled himself to his feet and stumbled over to the chair. He dropped down into it and just breathed. He hauled in sweet oxygen and pushed out carbon dioxide. When he stopped feeling light-headed, he rolled the chair over to the desk, picked up his pen, and went back to work.

* * *

**A/N:** Up next? Callen has been busy.


	8. Day 8

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:**I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, we would see proof of Deeks' surfing abilities.  
**A/N:** Thanks again to those who dropped reviews off at the end of the last chapter!

* * *

**Day 8**

Callen reviewed his past four days as he drove into work. His circuitous route was giving him a lot of time to think as he made extra certain he had no tails.

* * *

His first step of the weekend was to sit down and hammer out his alias; Deeks had his figured out, but Callen hadn't had a chance to dedicate the time necessary to crafting a long-term cover.

He dug through his bag and found the legal-sized pad of paper he was looking for. He pulled it out and set it on the empty table in front of him at a perfect angle for writing. He picked up his pen and poised his hand to write. The hand hovered over the pad for a moment and then set down on the paper.

And he wrote. Multiple pages were filled and then ripped off. He wrote past a hand cramp and a neck cramp. He wrote until he had nothing left to write. The pages were scattered across the table. The handwriting started neat and clear and ended as a sideways scrawl that somewhat followed the lines of the paper. When he first got the pad, he had carefully numbered every page because at a time like this, he tended to forget that part and the first few times he had done this, too much time was spent trying to reorganize them.

He sat back and stared at the mountain of pages. He stuck the pen behind his ear and began to sort them, first to last. Once the pages were in a neat pile, he began to read, taking notes on the pad when he felt necessary. He then went through the notes and original pages writing out the legend in full. In the end, he was left with three pages of phrases, sentences, and paragraphs that summed up Mikhail.

He read through those three pages multiple times, as well as the whole thing one more time and then lit the gas stove. He burned each page in the sink until there was nothing left but black ash, which he then scooped up and flushed down the toilet. He scrubbed the sink to remove any trace of his activities and scoured the kitchen twice for any page that might have gotten away, but none had.

He was ready to call Diego.

* * *

His second step was to call Diego. This hadn't happened until Monday afternoon. An eager seller was someone to be wary of; was his product actually as good as he claimed, or was he just trying to get rid of it? A slow-to-call seller was also worrisome, maybe he was juggling many clients and there was a potential for subpar stock. The butter zone was more than three days and less than a week. He decided to err on the side of early. His objective was to confirm that Diego was interested in the product, but not to do a sale, yet. The dance had to begin slowly.

He hit the correct contact number and watched as the phone began to dial. Diego wouldn't pick up on the first few rings. An eager buyer telegraphs his willingness to overpay. He wouldn't let it ring too long. A slow buyer stations himself as a problem client which lessens his bargaining power. Six, going on seven rings, Diego picked up. Right in the butter zone.

"Hola, Dick."

"Hello Diego."

"How is your brother? Or is that a, eh, sore subject?"

"He's fine. I'm sure your men noticed him this weekend."

A beat of silence. "It appears he bounces back quickly."

"He is not weak. You were sorely mistaken to underestimate him."

"I was."

"And it would be just as hazardous to you to act like that again."

"Trust me, I no longer underestimate him…or you. I believe together _tu y tu hermano_ are a force, not unlike myself."

Diego had no idea what he was up against, then again, Deeks and himself didn't have the full picture yet either. More reason to put off setting up the meeting until later.

"I understand that you are interested in what I sometimes sell. At least, that's what I've gathered from the mess you created."

Diego huffed. "I am. What kind of…"

Callen cut him off. "Not over the phone, these kinds of business talks must be done in person."

"I agree. There is a place that I frequent. Your brother knows it. It is where he gave a demonstration about a man named William and an apple on someone's head."

"Fine. Wednesday night." Silence filled the line so he added, "miércoles."

"Bueno. Eight o'clock."

"Eight o'clock it is."

* * *

Callen pulled himself back to the present and completed the final turns that brought him to the office, if you could call an old reclaimed building that was turned into a super-secret hideout an office. The remainder of his days had been spent reviewing the case, keeping up-to-date on the other open cases, and looking in on new hobbies. Sam was worried he had nothing to fill his time when he wasn't working so he was test-running ideas that interested him. He'd prove Sam wrong. Then again, Sam probably was hoping to be proven wrong. He'd have to figure out a way to turn this into his win, not Sam's.

He drove into the far end of the lot where he knew the car couldn't be spotted from the road. He waited until the gate had closed and he walked across to the door. He and Deeks knew they were going to have to have a face-to-face meeting before the talks with Diego started. Coming back to headquarters wasn't the most favourable spot, but they wouldn't have to watch their own backs and it had resources. They both agreed that they wanted to cut ties with this place in order to have a full undercover operation, but it seemed Hetty wasn't going to let them go deep.

Now who had trust issues?

The door swung in on silent hinges and he pushed it closed behind him, hearing the click of the latch as it caught. He stood still and said "so you beat me here."

Deeks emerged from the shadows formed by the hallway columns and into the light streaming in from the window. "These things happen."

"No Jag?"

"Left it at the office. A CD of office noises on repeat and shuffle should convince nosy people that I'm still there."

Callen jerked his head at door to Deeks' left. "Let's get started."

Deeks looked at the door, "isn't that a closet?"

"No, it's a conference room."

"Since when was that a conference room? Is it a conference room the size of a closet?"

"No. Open the door."

Deeks did as he was told. He felt around for a light switch and when the light came on he looked around. "Oh, hey, this is a conference room."

Callen rolled his eyes. "Why did you think this was a closet?"

"Various reasons, proximity to the door suggests a wrap room, fact that I've never seen this door open, there's no windows." Then he grinned, dug into his bag and pulled out a file folder. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Callen tapped his head, "mine's up here."

Deeks pouted. "And I spent all that valuable time writing things down."

Callen grinned, "Let's see what you got." They arranged themselves at the table, shifting the chairs into a good position, and wiggling down into their cushions. They were setting up for a long stay. "I do have a question that's been bothering me for almost a week now."

"Well we can't have that. What's up?"

"Diego said he'd call me by the name I was listed under in the phone. Why Dick? There were hundreds of names in there that would lead back to me."

Deeks eyes clouded over and the smirk fell from his face, but for only a fraction of a second and then the grin came back and his eyes brightened. But Callen felt these were different, a little forced. Apparently he hit a sore point.

Yet Deeks answered. "I noticed in the phone that I had a Tom, a Dick, and a Harry. I gambled that since Diego and his goons are Latino, they probably haven't heard of that combination. I started by giving up Tom, but they didn't believe that one. I moved on to Dick and they took that one. I figured they would give me a three name buffer between no name and Mike."

Callen smiled to himself. He'd used the same move although he preferred to use Simon, Alvin, and Theodore. "Good move. Have you decided upon our super-secret way to smuggle arms?"

Deeks gave one of his dazzling smiles and leaned forward on the table, "Yes, but it's not secret at all."

"We need to have a unique way, a reason for them to come to us." Callen was puzzled, but since he had learned to give Deeks more credit than he had before, he waited.

"I'm certain no one else knows about this particular loophole. The method is anti-secret. It's as un-covert you can get, it's overt. Want to hear it?"

"Not yet. I think that the best way to play this is as business partners: I run one half, you run the other. More of a 'let not the left hand know what the right hand does' kind of idea."

"I can work with that. Did you set up a meeting?"

Callen leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Did you perform a William Tell impression?"

A corner of Deeks mouthed slid up, "Maybe. You going to tell on me?"

Callen's brow furrowed, "where'd you get the apple?"

They stared at each other, Deeks attempting to squash his smirk while Callen's eyes narrowed. Comprehension dawned on him: "not an apple, an Apple. What did you shoot it off with?"

Deeks dropped his head in one of his hands "A dart." He laughed. "I was surprised; I never would have believed that it would hold an iPhone to the wall. What about it?"

"Diego wants to meet there tonight."

"I suggest you break out your cowboy boots...you'll blend better."

* * *

Callen pushed through the doors of The Bullring and scanned the room. He had snorted at Deeks when he suggested the boots and had outright nixed the matching hat. He'd finally agreed to an understated plaid shirt and jeans.

It appeared the...establishment...he was standing in was trying (hard) to be an upper-class country bar. The new wood flooring had been artfully distressed, the requisite peanuts lined the bar but were pre-shelled, and a bull sat in the centre, but was more in line with the one that resided on Wall Street than one that gave you a ride for a dollar. The comforts that the bar-hopping crowd refused to go without where present; there were private cubbies separated by what was most likely fake cowhides so to not offend the animal lovers, servers carried trays of top shelf alcohol, and the DJ was spinning tunes. It seemed that no matter the theme, the music was always the same: the flavour of the month.

He scanned the roped off area until he found the correct nationality standing guard outside one of the private rooms. He squeezed his way past the women in short skirts and men in open shirts until he found the foot of the staircase. He climbed it and threaded his way past hired muscle until he was chest-to-eye with a short, squat man that looked like he would rather be in the jungle foothills, not in a reconfigured warehouse hosting a dance party.

"Blanco and I have some business." He kept his eyes away from the occupied chairs as a sign of respect to the guard and the group. Too many people would barge past the guard and assume that he was some patsy that was shoved out front. That is how one got a knife in the side. The front guards were there for a reason.

This one turned his head, made eye contact, and then turned back. He patted Callen down in a subtle way, there was no need to proclaim that their business was of the, sensitive, manner. He jerked his head when he found no weapons and Callen stepped past him and through the threshold. The curtain swung closed behind him and did a decent job of blocking the sound as well. The area had already been cleared of extra people and Callen found himself looking at Diego and what the file stated was his top lieutenant.

Diego motioned for him to take a seat. "I found your brother was more open to talking when it was more...intimate. I assume you are the same." Callen sat and nodded. "Speaking of, where is he?"

Callen steepled his fingers and sunk down into his chair. The knives pressed into the small of his back. Guns were loud and reliably inaccurate in situations such as these whereas knives were silent and, when deployed properly, deadly. Plus, they were easier to conceal and harder to detect in a quick pat-down. "We take a divide-and-conquer approach to business. I manage the inventory and sales, he has the logistics of attaining and delivering. If we settle on a price, he'll join us." Callen wanted them to be on edge, just because they were in the same room didn't mean the deal was going to be done. Not too eager, not too lax.

Diego nodded and waved at his lieutenant. "Ricardo, the list." It appeared from inside his jacket, the process giving Callen a peripheral glimpse at the handgun tucked under his arm. The butt didn't tell him much, but the weight signalled that it would be a slower draw than him and his knives. It also told him that he was left-handed.

"I've heard that left-handed people are believed to be from the devil."

The list paused mid-air and Ricardo and Diego traded looks. A smile cracked Ricardo's face and Diego laughed. "Maybe we should rename ourselves _los tres demonios_, but it does not come off the tongue as smoothly. That thinking lives with the old and in the backwoods. Yet, Ricardo may have resurrected it." They both began to laugh.

Callen laughed with them, but filed away the information. There was a hitman believed to be working his way through the cartels who took the left hand of his kills. In English he was known as 'Lefty' and in Spanish they just tried to avoid him. Callen may have just found him. Once they settled down, the list made its way across the table and into his hands. Callen scanned the list and did some mental math. The firepower they were looking for signalled that they were looking to outfit a small army. This meant one of two things: they were replacing their force's guns with new ones, or they were planning on doubling their manpower. He didn't see them throwing away perfectly good guns so they were looking to significantly increase their size. Not good.

He quoted a price.

Diego returned with a much lower number.

Callen scrunched his nose and came down, just a little.

Diego waved his hand in a Latin gesture and came up, just a little.

Callen huffed a sigh and came down a bit above the halfway point between the original numbers.

Diego spat out some Spanish, which Callen assumed to be curse words, and spoke the magic number.

Callen grimaced, Diego sighed, and Ricardo played with his glass. Finally the two sides shrugged and shook hands. The price was what both sides expected. It was fair market value for the black market. Callen pulled out his phone and sent a text to Deeks as his services were now needed while Diego made arrangements for some refreshments to be brought up.

They were watching the waitress place their orders down on the table when a scuffle could be heard happening outside the curtain. The guard and Deeks burst through the curtain tangled up in each other. The guard was obviously trying to get Deeks out and Deeks was trying to make his way in. The guard, mindful of making a scene was not putting up his full effort. The waitress bee lined it out towards safety leaving the five in a tense tableau.

The guard let loose a stream in his native tongue while Deeks cackled.

Diego gave the guard a nod towards the outside and he left. He then tuned to face Deeks, "Jake, I believed you had better manners."

Deeks pulled a pistol out from under his arm and smacked it on the table. He dropped into the chair beside Callen and broke out a wolf-like grin. "This saves me taking one off your stooges." The unsaid 'you know I can, I did it once' hung heavy in the air. Callen decided to follow his suit and slipped the knife from his left sleeve into his palm, flipped it, and then buried the blade a half inch deep into the table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Deeks' jaw clench as he stared across the table. It was a subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless.

They all sat and stared at the weapons on the table and each tried to guess how many more there were in the room. Eyes travelled the decor, the bulges in the suits and calculations were made. Diego reached beside his chair and everyone tensed. His hand came up...

"Tequila?"

"Let's finish business first." Ricardo was looking a bit uncomfortable with his guard being bested by both their visitors and wanted to get the deal done. They could all see the tactical situation was deteriorating.

Deeks flopped back and cocked an eyebrow at Callen. He handed over the list and Deeks scanned it. When he had handed it back and nodded, Callen rolled it up and stuck it in the Mason jar which was holding a candle. The four watched as the paper caught fire and then burned to ash. When it was gone, they turned to Deeks.

He sat up, "you'll get three shipments. Each will come with their own instructions which will be mailed separately a week before the shipment is due to arrive in the port of your choosing. All I need is the name of that port and a reliable address."

"Mail instructions? A port? We do not lounge on the beach, we are people of the jungle."

Deeks smirked, "I'm sure with your network you can get a container off of a boat and on a truck. And yes, mail. Emails can be hacked with no notice but letters cannot be opened without a reason. I'll be sure to decorate it with hearts and rainbows and unicorns." He nodded at Callen and they stood.

Diego waved at them "wait, have a drink."

Callen shook his head. "We're business associates. Not friends. We'll meet again to finalize the details." They left and headed for the door.

Once outside, Deeks looked at Callen and said "well. That was fun."

Callen waved for the valet, "it did what needed to get done. Let's meet up tomorrow and figure out how to proceed."

* * *

**A/N: **Updates may go on hiatus for a week or two since I've got some plot to put in order before I continue. I know, I know, patience is boring, but it'll be better this way.


	9. Day 9

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer:**I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I probably have a better desk chair.  
**A/N:** Thanks to jmlane1966, shestarsky, and beverlie4055 for dropping a review at the end of the last chapter!

* * *

**Day 9**

Kensi listened as the woman sitting across the table told the story of how her son was killed when he got caught in the middle of gunfight. It was yet another tale involving the consequences of 'wrong place wrong time'. She pushed the glass of water closer as the woman's voice caught. Kensi tried to offer some comfort by patting the lady's hand and apparently it was enough to get her through the rest of the story. Kensi made some notes on her pad of paper and stopped the recorder after they had stood, hugged and the lady had moved on. She stretched, stood again, and headed to the bathroom. She paused in front of the foggy and scratched mirror and took a breath.

When she had first come in and explained what she was doing, the interest was minimal. The first man that came to talk to her had been more interested in her background than telling stories. It was an interview, that much was clear. She had explained about the project she going to be doing; how the public should be introduced to the real Columbia and not the one portrayed in the movies and the bad-news media. Once she passed the test, the stories had come fast and furious. The first day she spent frantically taking notes. The second day she came with a recorder to get the details down. Her Spanish was good, but she lacked the local slang. A couple of the teenagers who worked at the cafe, which had become her home base, had enjoyed schooling her in their lingo.

By the third day the people were comfortable enough with her to start telling her their real names. She assured them that she would use pseudonyms, but needed real names so that she could ask the correct person for clarification if necessary. One kind lady had brought her scrapbook of pictures she had been taking of the community. Kensi hit the goldmine. Through Maria she found the pictures, names, and connections of all the people they were searching for. Maria had graciously let her borrow it for a night. Eric had made the most of it, scanning and saving the pages.

Kensi had gone back each day, sometimes for a full work day, sometimes for a part day, depending on the demands of the office. Sam had originally found a spot to observe, but had slowly been working his way out of the area. His plan to go in had been rendered unnecessary by Maria's scrapbook. They agreed he would stay out of sight.

Callen had sent in a wish list for Sam to hunt down so Kensi had driven herself to the plaza today. After the chaos of the first day she had asked that people sign up so that she wouldn't miss anyone. There was one more person on the list and then she would be through everyone.

She let herself out of the bathroom and headed back to the table. "Luis?"

A shy boy came from the front table and stood beside the chair opposite her. She smiled at him and he smiled back, she looked at the chair and back at him. He tugged it out and climbed up on it.

"I speak English. I teach my mama."

"Good for you! What would you like to tell me?" She kept her voice soft.

He shrugged a bit, "I wasn't there for much time. But what I remember most is the trees. Everything was so green."

"Do you miss the trees?"

"Si. They were so tall and they made beautiful music. The wind wooshed." He waved his hands slowly back and forth.

"Do you like it here?"

He shrugged. "The wind is not as pretty here. But I no longer have to pick the leaves that make my hands tingle."

"What does the wind sound like here?" Kensi flinched at the reference to harvesting coco leaves and wanted to steer him into more happy thoughts.

"Noises. I like the songs the people play at the Hollywood pool better."

"At the Hollywood pool? What does it look like?"

He went on to describe a stage with a cover that looked like half a bowl. The seats were on a hill and rose higher and higher. He would slip through the trees and climb up so that he could hear without being seen.

"The Hollywood Bowl? I know the place." She failed to mention that she knew the place empty and harbouring a man bent on killing Hetty. "Who do you listen to when you go?"

"I like the big group with the violins and the drums and the trumpets."

"The orchestras."

"Si. I wish to play with them some day."

"Do you play an instrument?"

"I played the guitar and bugle with my papa in Colombia, but here I make my own drums with pails and sticks."

"I hope that one day you will play with them."

"Mama wishes this too."

Kensi reached across the table with her hand and tipped his chin up. "I believe you will find a way."

He smiled at her. "I am happy that you are taking our stories. If people know the real Columbia, maybe my papa can come here too. And bring his guitar and bugle." Kensi laughed at the impish smile on Luis' face.

"I have to go back to work. I have a lot of stories to go through."

"I have a pail and stick to practice with."

They stood, shook hands and Kensi went out to the car and Luis went out back to his drum.

* * *

Somewhere in the recesses of Kensi's mind a snapping noise registered. She shook her head slightly to get rid of it, but it persisted. Giving up, she blinked a few times to better focus on what was in front of her. She found Sam, looking slightly concerned, and Hetty, looking like...Hetty.

"Welcome back." Sam leaned back against his desk. "You were spaced out."

Hetty settled her hands in front of her and asked "Is there something bothering you, Miss Blye?"

Kensi shifted in her seat. "I have concerns."

"By all means, share, please." Hetty waved for her to start.

Kensi's brow furrowed and her mouth pinched. "I have spent the last week talking to these people. Yes, there are some criminals in the mix, but for the most part they are good people who deserve for this fake project to become a real one. It would be devastating for them if all these stories to just end up in a garbage can." She paused. "There was a kid today, Luis, he was so cute and he loves music. He's been sneaking into the Hollywood Bowl to listen to the orchestra concerts. I think he could do something with music if he had the opportunity."

"I agree." Hetty smiled, "You look surprised. I don't believe in taking from people who don't deserve to be hurt. That is why I contacted a journalist from the academic realm. She will be taking over from you. Once you feel you've completed the interviews, she will take them and write up the article. I'm looking to have it published in certain journals. And if the LA papers happen to hear of it, specifically the story of a young boy who loves music, so be it."

Sam shook his head, "you planned this from the start. There's always an angle."

"I surely did not. I have only been planning it since you came up with this plan. And yes, Mr. Hanna, if you think good things coming from bad is an angle, then I have an angle." She turned a stern look onto him, but the twinkle in her eye softened it. "Good work, you two. Good partnering."

* * *

Hetty was stationed behind her desk when Kensi leaned against the post and mimed a hand knocking on a door. She waved her to sit.

"I...uh...have more concerns."

Hetty shut the folder she had opened and nodded for her to continue. She felt that this was a conversation that required her full attention.

"I'm happy that you think Sam and I make good partners. I agree, we do work together well, once we worked out the whole driving thing." A small smile graced her lips. "I saw Deeks and Callen having their conference yesterday. They seem to be working well together."

"Yes, they had their own rough patch."

Kensi shifted, seemingly uncomfortable with what was coming next. "Hetty...they were finishing each other's sentences. They were so in-tune that half the conversation was just head nods and single words. Even Callen and Sam haven't worked that well together. They were seamless."

"I think you are over-estimating the smoothness of their partnership, but I will agree that they have developed a rapport in a short time period."

"Like Sam and I."

Hetty had a feeling where this was headed, but she decided to let it play out.

Kensi bit her lip and then launched into the question that was clearly bugging her. "Why don't you switch the partners if this is such a better way?"

"Who said this is a better way?"

Kensi blinked, "there's less fighting, things are getting done, and we're being successful."

"Are you not successful and get things done while there are some minor squabbles?"

"Yes, but..."

"Do you not trust that I took the decision to partner Sam with Callen and you with Deeks very seriously?" At Kensi's nod, she continued. "I am very glad that these new partnerships are working out so well, but I would never let them stay this way."

"Why not?"

"It would never work, I'd be cleaning up after many disasters. Not from you and Sam, mind you."

Kensi scrunched up her face. "What would Deeks and Callen do that would be so disastrous?"

"They are cut from the same cloth. Limited and unstable family background. They are both far too comfortable with working alone and under the radar, even my radar. I release them on the world together and I fear I would lose them to their own causes. Yes, they might stay together, but one person is not sufficient back-up for the forces they would undoubtedly go up against. They have a passion for justice that can blind them from caring for their own safety."

Kensi's mouth started to dry, "but...they've never really tried to go rogue or dark with us."

Hetty tapped her nose. "Exactly. Sam is able to rein Callen in. He is his conscience and the good fairy sitting on his shoulder. Deeks cares about you, he doesn't want to see you hurt and sticks close to ensure that doesn't happen. By having someone else to focus on beside himself gives him a reason to stay in line. Both you and Sam have good families; yes, you haven't had much contact with your mother, but your father was a good example. You give them something they haven't experienced that they need."

"I had no idea."

"I know. But when they get back that itch to go deep will be there. It will be up to you and Sam to convince them not to scratch it."

"Does Sam know about this?"

"We've had a similar conversation. He'll have his way to snap Callen back. You'll have to figure out what Deeks' trigger is."

Kensi planted her hands on the arms of the chair. "I'll figure it out."

"I have faith in you. That's one of the reasons I put the two of you together."

"What were the other reasons?"

Hetty smiled that enigmatic smile of hers and opened her file.

* * *

**A/N:** Updates are still going to be slower than weekly, but the plot to the finish is starting to take shape.


	10. Day 10

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I'd have my office in the middle of the set. During filiming.  
**A/N:** Reviews are lovely, as are the reviewers. Thanks jmlane1966, Sweet Lu, SunnyCitrus10, shestarsky, and CM-x-SN-x-HP-x-roxmysox.

* * *

**Day 10**

"Picture's up."

"Audio's up."

"We're set."

"Very good, Mr. Beale, Miss Jones. Watch them." Hetty scanned the feeds from the cameras that had been planted by Sam in the warehouse. She was not happy with how little coverage there had been in the club. Callen was being evasive about their plan and Hetty hoped to fill in the holes with information garnered from this meet. "Alert me when the players arrive."

Eric and Nell acknowledged the order and turned back to their screens.

"It's been weird without Callen and Deeks." Eric stopped typing and looked at Nell.

Her fingers paused on her keyboard and nodded. "It's been calmer, but not as much fun." They looked at each other and pondered that.

A blip popped up on Eric's screen. "Looks like Deeks is getting close to the warehouse. We should call Hetty."

"No need, Eric, I'm here."

Eric and Nell froze, their eyes widened. They turned slightly to catch either other's eyes and raised their eyebrows to communicate their confusion. When did she get there? Did she ever leave? Why was she so silent, and was she deadly to match? Okay, they knew the answer to the second part of the last question.

Eric cleared his throat, "Uh, the tracker in Deeks' ring is showing them four blocks from the warehouse."

"We should be picking them up on camera momentarily." Nell put the camera view in question up on the big screen.

The three watched as an SUV pulled past. Nell changed the views as it pulled into the warehouse. It parked and waited. Nell rotated through the views on her computer screen to watch for the other invited party. Eric spotted them coming from the north and Nell tracked them. Three SUVs turned in and the lead one parked nose to nose with the one holding their Callen and Deeks.

"Where are Sam and Kensi positioned?" Hetty posed the question while they watched the players exit their vehicles.

Eric pulled up the floor plan of the warehouse, "Kensi is up in this corner and Sam is watching over here."

Voices began to filter in through the microphones and Eric moved to turn up the volume so they could listen. A program began to make a transcript and Nell positioned it on the big screen beside the two best camera views while entering the proper names.

_ Diego:_ Hello friends, I think my choice of meeting area was much more welcoming.

Callen shrugged with his arms hanging loosely at his side and Deeks stood still, one hand resting on his hip and the other shoved deep into his pocket.

_Callen:_ I see you brought many friends.

_Diego:_ Laughter I am not one to travel light.

_Deeks:_ Neither are we.

They watched as a paper cup lying to the side of the group exploded into little pieces. The transcript program labelled the sound bang but they knew up in Ops that it was a shot from Kensi's rifle signalling that the Savic brothers had their backs covered.

_Diego: _We have made our positions known. Shall we do business, yes?

_Callen:_ Do you have our payment?

Diego snapped at one of his men who brought over a laptop. There was some typing and switching of the computer back and forth.

Eric monitored the account and once the money came through he sent a text to Callen. They watched as Callen pulled out his phone, read the message and then nodded at Diego. The laptop got packed up and everyone readied themselves to leave.

In the flurry of movement of the money transfer everyone but Hetty missed a note being passed from one of Diego's henchmen to Deeks. She tried to watch as he unfolded it and read it, but people kept moving. She eyed the transcript to see what it was picking up.

_Deeks:_ This wasn't part unintelligible extra unintelligible need time to plan unintelligible

_Goon:_ unintelligible make it work unintelligible contact within unintelligible

A terse nod from Deeks ended the conversation and Hetty tamped down frustration. She could guarantee herself that neither of the partners would fill her in on this little exchange since Deeks did his best to shield the conversation from the cameras. She would have to trust them to do the right thing. But she didn't trust that what they thought was the right thing was in their best interest.

* * *

_A few weeks later…_

Kensi met up with Sam in the parking lot and they joked about their respective parking jobs. The Savic case had been wrapped up by the warehouse meeting. The shipment had been tracked down to a jungle hideout and satellite imagery had confirmed it as the base of operations. Hetty handed the information over to the DEA; Callen and Deeks had suggested it so that the cartel would be taken down because of their drugs, not because of the guns. That would hopefully allow the legends to remain viable if they would be helpful in the future.

Their partners had returned to them in one piece and the four had worked on two cases since. Everything was going well. Sam and Kensi were optimistic that the tendency to take off on their own had been successfully squashed. They wandered to their desks only to find Hetty standing there, head down and hands folded. They stopped in front of her, unsure of what was coming.

Hetty was still, as though she was bolstering herself. She raised her head and spoke. "They're gone."

The question 'who?' hung in the air unasked, as though if someone spoke it, the room would explode.

Hetty continued, "I found these on my desk." She gestured towards two dark piles sitting on the edge of Sam's desk. "I do not know where they are, but I know I cannot protect them." She turned on her heel and walked away.

Sam and Kensi slowly turned toward Sam's desk, as though they were in a fog. They stared uncomprehending down at the piles.

The first was a NCIS badge with a note that read 'I brought back-up'.

The second was a LAPD badge and ring resting on a watch with a note that said 'I'm the back-up'.

Sam and Kensi looked at each other; Sam's lips were pressed together, holding back all the things he wanted to say to his missing partner while Kensi eyes welled with tears and she bit back a snarl.

Callen and Deeks had gone dark.

* * *

**A/N:** And we're back to the regularly scheduled updating! It'll be every Monday until the end of the story.


	11. Day 11

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I wouldn't have to write these.  
**A/N:** You really didn't like that cliff-hanger, eh? I'd apologize, but that thing pretty much wrote itself, I just typed. Thanks to keviana, tessinciucy, Sweet Lu, jmlane1966, jaguar24, beverlie4055, shestarsky, CM-x-SN-x-HP-x-roxmysox, ncisloverinnc, and Somnuim1 for stopping long enough to drop a note.

So, without further ado, as promised, Day 11...

Why are you still reading this? Skip ahead!

No! Don't skip ahead. There's important information here!

There isn't really, I'm just being a tease.

Carry on.

And I'll stop carrying on.

I promise.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Day 11**

Deeks reached for his water bottle as the plane hit some turbulence. Callen and he had been hopping their way through Central and South America down to Colombia. The goal was to create a route that would be next to impossible to follow, even for Eric to decipher. The consequence, however, was that they had spent the better part of two days either in a plane or standing in a line. He was parched by the dry air pumped through the planes and most of the airlines were not in the giving mood. They had been careful to pick up food and water in countries that were more trustworthy.

Callen looked up from his notebook, "I think the pit stop in Cuba will throw them off."

"I think the fact that we haven't used a passport since we left Costa Rica will be a bit of a brick wall." The money that Diego had dead-dropped to ensure his final demand was met had aided their travel.

"How's that baggage treating you?"

Deeks shifted in his seat, feeling the bag holding the firing pins rub against the small of his back. "The tape's itching a bit."

"We'll hop to Aruba on the way back; they have some Aloe gel that can solve anything."

"I bet their beach could solve it too."

Callen cocked his head to the side, "Maybe..."

Deeks smiled, "Depending on how mad Hetty is, we may _have _to take a vacation. Why not spend our detention well?"

A smirk found its way onto Callen's face, "Detention, I like it. She's probably pacing right now, sharpening her knives."

"As long as she doesn't point that letter opener at me again." They laughed at that; they were both making light of the grief they were no doubt causing.

But this was more important.

* * *

_Three weeks ago..._

Deeks slammed his door and Callen started up the engine. Deeks looked over at Callen and raised his eyebrows. Callen tapped his ear and turned on the radio. They travelled away from the meet with Diego and down the roads to Deeks' office. They climbed the stairs to the roof and Callen popped the lock on the door. They settled their backs against the low wall around the roof and said what was on their minds.

"Do you think Hetty caught what the note said?" Deeks deferred to Callen's more extensive experience with their boss.

"Not unless Eric finally got those super cameras he's been drooling over, which I'm sure hasn't happened."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"What do you think?" Callen was interested to see what Deeks thought, especially considering, unlike his alias, he had never travelled much of the world.

"I think if we say no, we're going to have a hard battle convincing him, and everyone else, that we're not involved when the raid happens."

"There's the possibility that we, well, you, get taken down too, especially if the timing happens the way it should."

Deeks looked down at his hands. "I know" he said in a small voice. "She'll never allow it and I'll be on my own."

Callen nudged him with his elbow, "Hey, we're partners on this, if you go down, I'm going down too."

Deeks squinted into the sun, "Wouldn't she figure out where we're going?"

"Not necessarily," Callen twisted his upper body to face Deeks, "she's planning on us handing all the information over to the DEA and then washing her hands of it. That way our agency is not involved. We'll be giving them a timeline of when each of the packages are supposed to arrive. The suggestion we'll add, and Hetty will agree, is that they attack during the most gun-unrelated one, which will be firing pins."

"So we tell him that I'll personally accompany that one."

"Makes sense, why would you travel down with a container? It's more believable for you to show up as a guest, which happens to be carrying a small gift."

Deeks sucked in a breath and stared into the distance. "Let's do it."

Callen nodded and clapped him on his shoulder. "I agree."

* * *

Callen nudged Deeks, "Once we get out of this turbulence you should turn on the tracker."

"How am I supposed to re-tape it by myself?"

"Get limber."

Deeks rolled his eyes, figuring that was enough to convey his opinion of Callen's suggestion. The seat belt light switched off and he waited a few minutes before heading up to the bathroom.

They had circled back to Costa Rica and were taking a major airline down to Bogotá. They had a charter that would drop them in a town near to the base. From there Deeks would hook up with the transportation Diego had arranged to bring him to the base. Callen would follow, finding his own way. Neither way was opportune and separating wasn't their first choice, but it had to be done. Diego would know that Callen came in on the same plane, but it would be expected that the 'brothers' would be watching each other's backs in such a dangerous situation.

Through some interesting positions and some pulled muscles Deeks did manage to get the package un-taped, the tracker engaged, and the whole thing re-taped to his back. He moved down the aisle, finding his seat back and falling into it. They had lucked out, getting two seats side-by-side with the third seat empty.

"You sure turning the tracker on now won't draw any suspicion?"

Callen shook his head, "Half the time these things cut in and out constantly. They'll just think it's a glitch and celebrate when it works all the way to the compound."

"Okay. Here's hoping this whole plan works...the way we want it to."

* * *

The two yet-to-be-named Things were waiting for him; they were leaning up against a truck that had seen better days, but Deeks wasn't fooled. The way it was sitting on its shocks told him that there was some heavy duty protection built into the frames. He'd put money on it being bulletproof.

He popped his glasses on as he stepped out of the Cessna and scanned the area. The reflective surface on the glasses hid his eyes but had the unfortunate side effect of blinding him at times. He sauntered over to his ride, sniffed and wrinkled his nose in a way that said he wasn't completely impressed with what was in front of him. Thing 3 stepped forward to pat him down, but Deeks whipped out a blade from where it was tucked beside the firing pins.

"No way. I come armed or not at all. Explain that to _el jefe_ and make sure he understands."

The things exchanged glances and shrugs and Thing 3 backed off.

He kept his face forward but swung his eyes to the side and watched as Callen walked off the runway and into the building. He silently wished him luck as he climbed into the truck.

* * *

Callen paused in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the murky light in the building. The sunlight had to pass through grimy windows and was failing. The fixtures did a passable job of throwing some yellow light, but everyone inside looked like they had a touch of jaundice. He folded his sunglasses and tucked them in the pocket of his shirt. There as a young girl wiping down the counter and Callen guessed that she was his best bet for information.

"_Hola, __hay una casa de huéspedes?_" Is there a rooming house?

She replied with directions and Callen headed out. Following the directions he found the place quickly and repeated his pause-in-the-entrance routine. There he found a woman waiting for him; news travels very quickly in small towns. She probably expected him the minute he stepped off the plane and didn't join Diego's men.

He went through the motions of booking a room and dropping off his suitcase. He locked the door and rumpled the room up a bit. He propped the suitcase up in the corner, opened it up and dug out his backpack. This held the supplies he was going to need. He was happy to find that his room was on the back of the house and his window opened and closed easily. He slung the backpack over his shoulders and hopped out the window. A glance to the left and right confirmed that no one was watching so he quickly crossed to the jungle and disappeared behind the trees. He worked his way through the underbrush until he walked down a little hill. At the bottom of the valley he dug out a compass and a paper containing a heading. He was about to climb the opposite hillside when a voice worked its way out of the foliage.

"Figured I'd meet you."

Callen smiled and shook his head. He worked his way towards the direction of the voice and found himself face to face with a face from his past. "Hi Jorge."

The face cracked a smile. "I see you found your way with no problem."

"We're still alive so far."

"I aim to aid you in keeping it that way."

Callen studied the man in front of him. Jorge went through the CIA Farm with him and they had kept up as much as possible over the passing years. Callen knew that he was stationed in South America, but when he put in a request for contact with the agency, he found that he was not far away from the base Deeks was headed towards. Fate was giving them a bit of a helping hand. "What do you got for me?"

Jorge jerked his head in the direction they should walk. As they started moving he filled Callen in on what he could spare him. "I've got a vehicle and some camping supplies. I figure you'll probably want to find a good spot and sit on top of the base. The DEA team ran their plan by us looking for suggestions," at Callen's questioning look, he explained, "I know the agencies don't tend to get along, but down here sometimes we need the backup. Anyway, I know their attack plan so I have a few spots you can use and stay out of their and Diego's men's way."

They came into a clearing and Callen looked over the supplies Jorge had for him. They took some time to go over the map and the route back to Jorge's hideout. It would be their back-up plan if they had to get out fast. Callen hoped it would be unnecessary, but it was better to be a pessimist and plan for the worst. The two men shook hands and drove off in opposite directions.


	12. Day 12

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I wouldn't have spent the summer stressing over the season finale.  
**A/N: **The beginning of the week was super busy so this chapter is late. My apologies, but this one is longer than normal. I have to say thanks to beverlie4055, Sweet Lu, shestarsky, SunnyCitrus10, Somnium1, Jasmine-Now-Leaves, and Bren Gail for leaving notes. Always appreciated.

* * *

**Day 12**

Callen stretched and rubbed his eyes. He had chosen the best of the three spots Jorge had suggested. Dawn was breaking and he wanted to have the camp packed up before Diego's men woke up. From the scale of the partying he observed last night, they would be a bit slow this morning.

He reviewed the DEA's attack plan in his mind. They wanted to hit the compound in the early afternoon when most of the camp was taking a siesta. Some theories suggested attacking during the middle of the night when people have reached their deepest sleep, but the jungle posed challenges in the dark that were not an issue in the light. Callen supported the plan, mostly because it meant he'd be able to keep an eye on Deeks.

The camp was stored so he closed the door of his vehicle and started the trek to his chosen viewing post. It didn't take long and soon he had himself wedged into the crook of a tree. From this spot he could see most of the base and the buildings. His back was covered and he had snacks. He was good to go...or good to wait.

* * *

Meanwhile in the main building, Deeks was desperately holding onto the last dredges of sleep. He'd been brought into the camp the previous night where he'd begged off the night's festivities due to a long plane ride. Diego had accepted the answer, but not until he had joined him for dinner. Not wanting to give him any reason to suspect that there could be something amiss, he had agreed. The firing pins stayed firmly taped to his back the entire time. He was sure someone had tossed his luggage while he was eating, but there was nothing for them to find but some clothes and the various things people collect as they travel, magazines, shampoo, and airline barf bags.

Resigned to the fact that sleep was not coming back to him, he rolled out of bed and dug through his bag for some clothes. He stuffed the bag of firing pins into his pocket, thankful that the baggy nature of the cargo pants and the depth of the pocket hid them fairly well.

He rifled through his bag, checking to see if there was anything vital he wanted to take back home with him. If events occurred the way they were supposed to, he wouldn't be coming back to this room.

A right turn and a quick left brought him to the back door of what was referred to as 'the guest accommodations'. That meant that they were clean-ish and he had his own room. However, the roof leaked and the one wall was dangerously close to leaning right off its foundation. He worked his way out to the edge of the jungle where he found a path beaten into the grass a safe distance away from the foliage. There was a chill in the air and Deeks set off on a slow jog on the path around the compound. It would appear he was exercising, but he was really getting a good look at the whole place.

Two laps later he had the information he desired and had worked up a good appetite. He walked his way back to where they had dinner the night before and found the cook warming up the grill. He nodded to him and found a seat that had its back to the wall. The man set to work and not long after slid a plate piled with beans and rice, a fried egg, sausage, and something that resembled a pancake. A jug of hot chocolate and a mug found its way onto the table as well. Deeks dug in and found it all quite appetizing. He ate slow and once finished he refilled his mug and sipped away at it until Diego made his appearance and took a seat across from him.

"I hear you were observing my compound." Diego gestured for his cook to bring him food.

Deeks shrugged, "I went for a run. I may have looked around while I was doing it."

Diego snorted. "You are a smart one. But I am also smart." He moved to allow the cook to place his plate in front of him. "Ricardo helped with your unpacking last night but the promised shipment was not in your bag."

Deeks pursed his mouth. "It's close." He smiled, knowing that presently he had the upper hand, but he had to play it right.

"I have the guns, you have these pins, and the ammunition is supposedly on its way. Why?"

He thought, tossed the idea of telling Diego the loophole, but decided it was best kept a secret. "We have to break up the shipments to stop suspicion, and this way works well."

Diego stared at Deeks, but after curling his lip, went back to his breakfast and ate it at a record pace. He wiped his mouth and waved his hand. "Come, we must do our business quickly for a raid is planned this afternoon."

Deeks kept his face neutral, but inside his guts were churning. Obviously Diego was referring to the DEA raid that was supposed to be Deeks' ticket out as well as the conclusion to this entire op. "A what?"

"A raid." Diego stood and led him out to his outdoor office situated in the centre of the camp under decent shade. "These foreign agencies, they must run all their plans by the local government first. You see, we as a country do not appreciate these outsiders." A feral grin formed on his lips. "We cry and now we get the information before these raids happen. A well-placed bundle of cash and I know when they know. Therefore, we must abandon the camp no later than noon."

"How do they know where you are?" Deeks was worried that he was suspected.

"It is the DEA so I assume it has to do with all the cocaine we provide to the _americanos_."

They stood in silence and sized each other up. They were each lost in their thoughts when Diego jerked his chin at a point over Deeks' shoulder. Deeks squinted in confusion, but it all became clear when he felt his arms being wrestled behind his back. He was lifted into the air and dragged out to an open area of grass. He fought, partly because he was expected to and partly because it kept his mind off the things that had happened the last time he'd been captured by these men. He worked one arm free and timed a swing that connected with a kidney. He twisted and aimed for something else with his elbow. A face appeared in front of his and he slammed his forehead into the nose. The head dropped away but his eyes widened as a fist came from behind it. It was huge and it was coming fast; he had no room to evade it. The impact felt like he'd been hit by a Mack truck. His head snapped back with a crack and he collapsed onto the ground.

He may have blacked out.

He definitely blacked out because the next thing he knew, he was on his knees and that same fist was slapping him. He levered his eyes opened and stared up at Diego and Ricardo who stood cross-armed. Deeks worked his tongue through his mouth and found that even though he had some loose teeth and few splits, everything was still intact.

A shake of his head cleared his thoughts. "What the hell?" He tried for indignation, but it came out a bit muffled due to the puffy lip.

Diego took his time answering and while he waited a smug smile grew on his face. "I know _tu hermano_ came with you on the plane. I know he is somewhere close. Maybe with the firing pins, no?"

Ricardo pulled a knife from his scabbard and tapped the tip against his nails.

Diego continued, "Maybe you don't lie, maybe you do have the package. Either way, I will get them."

The sound of guns being cocked came from behind Deeks and he resisted the urge to take a peek. He was in trouble and it was the kind of trouble that required a well armed team not one man with a pistol to come and save him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Ricardo stepped forward. He felt the edge of the blade being dragged down the side of his face but he steeled himself against reacting.

"I will get my package and I want a discount."

"A discount" Ricardo hissed beside Deeks' ear, "that you will give willingly."

Deeks lifted his eyelids and stared at Ricardo, "how do you suppose that will happen?"

Diego stared out at the trees and shouted out "If I do not receive 15% of the payment back in my account by noon, this man will die. I will put a bullet in him every hour that I have to wait." He pulled a kitchen timer out of his pocket and wound it to an hour. He set it on the ground beside Deeks and nodded at Ricardo. The two turned and left, leaving Deeks on his knees with three men surrounding him.

Deeks dipped his head towards the ground and settled in for a long wait.

* * *

Callen had heard Diego's demand and mentally froze. He started going through all the things that would have to be done to actually comply with Diego's demand. They'd never actually handled the money, Eric had seen to all of that. He could do it, but he'd need a computer, a solid internet connection and too much time.

He silently cursed for not realizing that Diego would most likely pull something like this. They had put themselves in a position that was not tactically good. They were relying on a raid being completed by a group of people that didn't know that they existed. The raid wasn't slated to happen until the afternoon and the money was due before that. Not to mention the fact that by then Deeks would most likely have three bullets in him.

He had an hour to figure something out. Or else.

* * *

Deeks peered at the timer out of the corner of his eye. In less than two minutes he would be shot. He was debating what the worst part of this was. There was the fact that he'd been shot before and he knew it hurt. He knew the work he'd have to do to recover, if he made it out alive. There was also the fact that he knew exactly when he would be shot. So he could potentially mentally prepare for it. However, the other part was that he didn't know where he would be shot. That was the unknown variable. So what was worse? Fear of the known or the unknown?

He was getting too philosophical. Too much time to think.

The timer started its final round. This was the last minute. Deeks sighed and stared out into the distance. And saw something.

He tipped his head slightly and furrowed his brow. Shapes began to slowly move out of the jungle. A hint of a smile graced his lips.

Diego was smart.

But the DEA was smarter.

His train of thought was interrupted by a white-hot pain that stabbed his leg. The shock sapped the strength from his legs and he fell over.

* * *

A shot rang out and Callen had to grab onto the tree with both arms to stop himself from jumping out of his hiding place. His fingers dug into the bark and the tips began to bleed as he watched Deeks fall to the side. Time ground to a halt and Callen ground his jaw to keep from calling out. The logical side of his brain was telling him that the best thing to do was to stay put and wait for the confusion caused by the DEA to give him enough cover to pull him out. He could see it starting up, just...one...more...minute.

But he was just lying there in a heap.

Lying so still.

His fingers were numb and his jaw was in danger of locking. He was staring at the prone form so hard his vision was beginning to blur.

Time moved as fast as Deeks...so not at all.

Somehow, from somewhere, muddied sounds reached Callen's ears. He shook his head and pried his hands off of the tree. He stuck a fist on either side of his jaw and worked his knuckles into the joints. He could feel the relief in his teeth as his mouth popped open. Two deep breaths brought the present and he took stock.

Deeks, still in the same spot, a dark stain on his pants. The two men that had been behind him had fled and the man with the gun, Callen refused to process the fact that he had been the one to shoot Deeks yet, had his back turned and was focused on the raiders.

With a hope and a prayer that no one would see him, Callen snuck out of the woods and shot across the open ground to Deeks. With shouts and shots forming the background soundtrack, he shook Deeks' shoulder. When a blue eye showed Callen wanted to whoop, but instead he slipped an arm under and levered Deeks into a sitting position.

He heard a deep breath being drawn in beside him and when he turned his head he found a determined look set upon Deeks' face. Callen mouthed a count to three, heaving himself and his partner up on the last number. A quick peek behind him gave him confidence that they hadn't been spotted yet. Together on three legs they stumbled towards the trees. Once they were back at his tree, Callen set him down and traced their path back to the edge of the meadow. He pushed the branches back and fluffed the foliage in an attempt to cover their retreat.

Deeks had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and was poking at his leg. Callen got to him just as his eyes were rolling back in his head. A smack or two to his shoulder and Deeks came back.

"How bad is it?" Callen whispered.

An eyebrow popped up, but it lacked its usual energy. "I've had worse." He hissed when Callen pressed at the edges of the torn jeans. "I think it's just a flesh wound, but it's deep."

"The best thing is to get you out of here and into a cleaner environment."

"It's going to take a while to hike out of here."

Callen turned and grinned. "Who said anything about walking?"

The eyebrow popped up again, but it had more energy this time.

* * *

Deeks limped into the clearing and was shocked still. He barked a laugh, turned, and pitched the piece of wood he'd been using as a crutch into the underbrush. He shook his head and hobbled over to the Range Rover parked in the shade. The dust covering its matte black paint camouflaged it and hid it from being spotted from above.

"Where'd you get this?"

Callen pulled open the door, "I procured it. It's an older model, but it's clean inside. I stocked some medical supplies, so we can get you cleaned up."

They stopped and started a few times while trying to figure out how to get Deeks into the back seat causing the least amount of pain. Finally Deeks just backed up to the seat, grabbed onto the door and the frame and hauled himself up. He scooted across the bench seat until his back was against the other door. Callen followed him in and closed the door behind him. Some rummaging below the seat yielded him a bag of supplies.

"Bite on this." Callen handed him his spare belt.

"Why." The question came out in a sigh. Callen held up a bottle clearly marked 'saline' and shook it. Deeks sighed again and shoved the belt in between his teeth. Around the leather he said "Do it fast."

Callen cut some more of the jeans to get a clear look at the wound and without warning, poured saline over the whole area. A muffled scream that ended in some heavy breathing came from beside him, but as soon as he could see where the wound was, he dumped an envelope of powder on it to clot the blood.

That earned him a punch in the shoulder.

He grabbed one of the packs that held large gauze pads and ripped it open. A few swipes around the wound cleaned off the dried and some of the new blood. The others were folded, packed, and used to cover it and almost half a roll of tape made sure nothing would move.

He looked up into a face that couldn't decide between anger, thoughts of revenge, or relief, and said "Done, for now. Keep an eye on it as we drive; if red starts to show through we'll have to do this again." Deeks eyelids fluttered, but Callen guessed he was just rolling his eyes. He climbed into the driver seat. Once settled, he put it into gear and pointed it in the direction of safety.

* * *

Deeks gazed out the window and watched the green flash by. By his internal clock they had been driving for a couple of hours. He was sure that Callen was taking a long way around, trying to avoid both the DEA and Diego and his men. As for where they were going, Deeks had no clue. He'd avoided looking down at his leg, but the spot was feeling a bit slick. His memory of the wound cleaning was a bit fuzzy; he thought he may have taken a swing at Callen. He must have deserved it.

He leaned forward and waved at Callen, "I think the gauze is getting a bit bloody."

Callen twisted a bit in his seat to get in eyeline with Deeks, "I think we're only a couple miles out from our stop, so I think we'll hold off until we get you inside."

They each settled back into their seats and waited out the last bit of driving. Finally they broke out of the trees and into a small clearing with a cabin set into a cliff wall. Callen made a turn and parked with the driver's side door close to the entrance to the house. He stepped out and pulled the door by Deeks' feet open. Deeks scooched forward until his feet were hanging just above the ground. Callen reached behind him and set his shoulder to take the weight meant for Deeks' leg. Together they made their way into the cabin. Shuffling along brought them to the couch and Deeks set himself down on the one side.

"You're not going to bleed all over my couch, are you?" came from a sighing man entering from a door off of the room.

Deeks was startled and his eyes cut over to Callen who tensed, and then instantly relaxed. He felt his shoulders loosening, because if Callen trusted the man, he could too.

"You were always overly sensitive about stains. I never understood that from a trained paramedic."

"Just because I was in a messy line of work didn't mean I liked being dirty."

"Deeks, this is Jorge. Once he stops whining, he can take care of that little scratch you have."

Deeks tried for a smile, but the move from the car had produced some adrenaline and his pulse had spiked. He felt himself trembling slightly. Jorge came over and hunkered down for a look at the wounded area.

He glanced up at the partners. "Gun shot?" At their nods, he shook his head, "You two got out clean with only one gunshot wound?"

Callen smirked, "Pretty sure it's just a flesh wound."

Jorge raised his eyes to the roof. "Why could that have ever happened to us? My knee still gives me fits every time it snows. Which is thankfully minimal here." He pushed himself to his feet. "I'll go grab my kit."

Callen eyed Deeks as he tried to push himself into a more comfortable position. "This is going to slow down our return to LA."

"I'd rather not be limping when we make our grand entrance, I feel like that would open us up to a whole bunch of 'I told you so's." Deeks grimaced, "You know they'll grab the opportunity like Monty and a good NPR debate."

The corners of Callen's eyes crinkled, "I'm not sure I get the reference, but I'll go along with it."

Jorge reappeared in the room and propped his box of medical supplies up on the table. They watched as he fished around, occasionally pulling out one or two things, until he had a neat pile. He grabbed and uncapped a needle and advanced on Deeks. He felt a prick in his arm and the world went black.


	13. Day 13

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I'd have more time to write!  
**A/N:** Thanks to ncisloverinnc, Sweet Lu, Somnium, tessinciucy, and beverlie4055 for leaving written encouragement in the form of reviews.

* * *

**Day 13**

Deeks came to when the sunlight was filtering through the curtains. He squinted at his surroundings and tried to wiggle his way into a sitting position.

"I wouldn't move too much. I used glue instead of stitches and it tends to pull."

The source of the voice moved into Deeks' field of vision and handed him a cup. "Thanks, I'm a bit dry." Deeks peeked around and then whispered "Did I pass out?"

Jorge smirked and nodded. "It was good for me, I didn't have to use any of my knock-out drugs."

Confused, Deeks wrinkled his nose, "then what did you shoot into me?"

"Antibiotics." He settled into the chair across from Deeks. "I have to tell you, this isn't a normal bullet wound. What we think happened is the guy shot you through the pack of firing pins. They acted as a bit of a shield and slowed the bullet down. However, it did blow some of the firing pins into your leg. I took out as many as I could, but I'm certain there are still some in there."

Deeks sighed. "So what you're telling me is there will be surgery in my future?"

Jorge nodded. "The sooner the better. I don't think they'll poison you but any foreign objects should be removed so that infections can't set in."

The water was helping his throat, but it also reminded his stomach that it hadn't had much to eat in the last 24 hours. It made its condition known as the growling breached the silence. Deeks smirked, no matter how badass they were or how many bad guys they took down in a day, they still had to eat.

Callen emerged from the doorway and stretched. "Sleeping on the ground was better than that mattress, what'd you fill it with, porcupine quills?"

"Be happy I didn't make you sleep on the porch to watch out for invaders of the animal variety."

With a sour face shot at Jorge, Callen plodded over to the kitchen area and started banging pots around.

Jorge sighed, "You're not going to try and cook, are you?"

A muffled retort came from inside a cabinet. "It'll be better than letting you try and find the working end of a spatula. I'll have you know my cooking skills have improved since you last knew me now that I have a kitchen to practice in."

With wide eyes, Jorge turned to Deeks and whispered "How does he have a kitchen to practice in?"

Deeks shrugged, "He has a kitchen in his house."

"He rented a house?"

"He owns a house."

Jorge's mouth gaped open, "Really? No..."

Deeks nodded and a slow smile spread across his face. "He's getting down-right domesticated."

"I heard that." Callen spun into their sightline holding a frying pan. "I practice my knife skills on the steaks, build muscle strength mashing potatoes, and tweak fine motor skills picking up peas with chopsticks."

Deeks and Jorge shared a look and tried not to laugh.

* * *

Callen pulled up in front of the cabin after a long drive back from the CIA headquarters. He and Jorge had left Deeks there so that they could sniff around for details of the DEA raid. He found Deeks on the couch reading a paperback that Jorge had dug out for him.

"Breakfast was good." Deeks said it with a straight face, but Callen knew that he was working to keep it that way. Deeks had pretty much fell asleep onto his plate once they were done eating but it looked like he was awake now.

"You two really enjoyed it." Callen harrumphed. "There's nothing wrong with my cooking."

"According to Jorge this was a vast improvement." Seeing Callen's pout Deeks added, "Aw, how often do you get made fun of, huh? I promise I won't tell anyone else the stories."

Callen rolled his eyes, Deeks was usually the butt of the jokes. He could take one meal of one-liners and zingers. "Fine. But if I hear any related questions back home, I'll make Jorge put the bullet back in."

Deeks snickered, but stopped at a glare from Callen.

Callen tapped his finger against his leg, trying to decide what was the best way to break the news. He decided to do it the same way he had learned it; he dug the note out of his back pocket and handed it to Deeks. With a wary look he unfolded the paper and the smirk slid from his face as he read.

"So. What do you want to do with this information?" Callen sat down on the couch beside a very still Deeks as they both processed the message that had been given to them.

A muffled sniff sounded and was followed by a sigh. "I don't know. I mean, this was supposed to be justice. We'd come down here, do what we had to wrap up the case with Diego. Ricardo would be put away and...and..." his voice broke.

"You would get some closure. It would be easier to move on with him behind bars."

This was the real reason why they had stepped off the plane and mailed their passports home in Costa Rica. As important as it was to grant Diego's request of sending Jake along with one of the packages, they had agreed to do so to save Deeks' sanity. Callen had seen the flashes of pain in Deeks' eyes and watched as he tried to cover up the skittishness that he had picked up. It was convenient that the man centred in Deeks' nightmare also happened to be a wanted hit man. They had hoped it would make their lives easier; ensure he's on the compound when the raid happens and he would end up in custody and then prison. Somehow there had been contingencies put in place by Ricardo long before he came to work for Diego. Now, Diego was locked in the DEA's custody and Ricardo had slipped out of their fingers.

"We did everything the legal way. We did it all right." Deeks eyes were glassy from the tears that threatened to break the dam that held them back. "I just don't understand."

Callen paused, not sure if this was the right time. In the three weeks leading up to their flight from LA they had sorted out who Ricardo really was and had discovered all the crimes he had committed. The descriptions were gory and the pictures were worse. Multiple agencies from several countries were looking for him. They had learned that Deeks was one of the lucky ones. He was still alive. It turns out that Ricardo had a taste for torture; he liked to see people suffer. Somehow this trip down to Columbia had become more of a vigilante ride than just to lock up a drug cartel. They needed to put this man away to protect his future victims and to serve some justice to his past ones, even if they weren't alive to know it.

With fists clenched and the muscles popping from holding his jaw so tightly, Deeks kicked at the floor more out of frustration than anger.

"There may be another way." Callen decided to tell him now, it wasn't fair to hold information back from the person it would most benefit. He heaved a breath "Jorge gave me another note." He dug it out of his other pocket, opened it up and handed it to Deeks.

He read it out loud "Manny's been tracking him since he left...the tech is a genius. Ricardo is holed up in Juarez, Mexico with the Ortega's." He turned to face Callen for the first time, "What does this mean?"

Callen steeled himself against the instinct that rose in him to take this tip and run it alone. Mexico was not a place to be alone and he trusted Deeks to watch his back. Somewhere between picking him up after Ricardo had his first and second runs at him, Callen had found Deeks trustworthy. Hetty and Nate would have a field day if he ever leaked it to either of them.

"The Ortega's are a small operation that offers protection to anyone from anyone. It's like the only safe place to be in all of the Americas. However, they have a two week policy and once you leave, you're fair game."

Deeks squinted, "How does that help us? He's only been there maybe a day. He's still got most of the two weeks left."

"Let's go there, inspiration may hit on the way."

"You want to go to Mexico?" Deeks was a bit suspicious and shocked.

"I may or may not know some people there. But we'll have to make a pit stop in the capital to pick up some ID."

"Let me guess, safety deposit box?"

Callen smiled for the first time, "Not really."

* * *

A quick good-bye to Jorge and they were on their way to Mexico. The flight was uncomfortable, again, for Deeks. Unlike the first flights where he wore the firing pins on his back, he now wore a fresh gash along with a sprinkling of metal pins in his leg. The trick was to keep the leg as straight as possible to keep it from putting pressure on the wound. Of course this was easier said than done, but through some creative seat booking and Callen donating some of his leg room to the cause, they made it to Mexico City without staining another pair of Deeks' pants.

Deeks let Callen take the lead and he followed behind him, step for step, once they got into the airport. He followed him from the plane, to the baggage terminal, through security, and into a taxi. Callen was worried at first as all the talk and bluster had seemed to gone out of Deeks. Then he would turn his head and get a view of the quiet determination that had taken up residence on his face. If their eyes would catch, Callen would nod and Deeks would nod back. They were in this together until the end. No matter how it played out.

The taxi dropped them at a small park and Callen lead the way through some back alleys to a small shop. Once inside he waved to the man seated in the back. A look of confusion was quickly followed by recognition and he ran off into a storeroom. Callen nodded for Deeks to follow him and they worked their way through the odds and ends lining the shelves and floor. They each took a seat at the recently abandoned table. The man emerged from the door way with a box. He reached into his shirt to pull out a ring of keys that were held on a long rope around his neck. He found the proper key and worked it into the lock. It was slightly rusted but the lock gave and the lid loosened. The man turned the box to Callen and then made his way to the small kitchenette at the side of the room and began messing around in the cabinets.

Callen lifted the lid and dug around. He pulled his hand out once it wrapped around what he was looking for. It was a folded bandana. He held it up to show Deeks who just stared back with a questioning look.

"This is our way in."

"To where? A western bar?" A hint of Deeks wit came out from underneath the weight of the past month's events.

"Juarez."

The man set mugs of coffee in front of the partners with a sigh. "You're not going back there again, are you? Remember last time? I finally sold that car you brought back to me with the hundreds of bullet holes in it." A cultured British accent was not was Deeks was expecting and the surprise showed on his face.

Callen clapped the man on the shoulder, "You love a good challenge." This prompted another sigh. "The good news is that I don't need anything this time...just a vehicle. We'll be back in a couple of days and I'll place this back in your safe keeping."

The man looked at Callen as if he had grown another head and that head was presently growing another. "Just a vehicle? Just a vehicle. That's what you said last time. Do you know how hard it is to resell things that I give you? How do you suppose I make a living?" He paused for a moment. "Don't answer that. I have something, and I don't want to hear any complaints."

Callen shrugged and mimed zipping his lip and throwing away the key.

To this the man scoffed and mumbled "I'll believe it when I see it. Follow me." He pushed his way through a curtain and into an outdoor courtyard. In the corner sat a rust-coloured, because it was mostly rust, car.

Deeks squinted. "Is that a Gremlin?"

"No complaints!"

Deeks hobbled his way over to the car. He peeked in the window and then popped upright. "I drove one of these through college. Every one of my friends hated it, but I loved that car. It was the first one that I bought instead of...uh...I bought it." He faltered for a moment, but recovered and ended with a grin.

The keys sailed over to him. "Take it, it's yours. Don't bring it back."

* * *

**A/N:** Presently I am battling a lingering cold, a horrendous-looking October schedule, and a story that decided it wasn't quite done yet. That's right, this is twist is somewhat new. But I'm not giving up, I just might disappear for a while.


	14. Day 14

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I would.  
**A/N:** Yesterday was Canadian Thanksgiving and I would like to say thanks to everyone who has been leaving reviews over the last 13 chapters, including beverlie4055, Katy Cooper, and Bindi-fox on the last one.

* * *

**Day 14**

"If I'm reading this map right, we have a long drive in front of us." Deeks squinted at the paper on his lap and tried to make out the words in the fading light. "Am I to understand that there is actually a place called Chihuahua?"

Callen looped his wrist around the steering wheel and grinned. "Yep, and it's a pretty big town too." He steered around a pothole and kept the nose of the car pointed north.

"Could you explain to me why we're driving to this border town instead of flying? It's going to be a full day of driving."

"I figure we'll stop in Chihuahua for a quick rest, it's about three-quarters of the way there, so it'll be a bit more than a day."

Deeks rolled his head towards Callen, "You didn't answer my question."

Callen quirked a smile, "Very astute, you are."

"And you are not Yoda."

"But I am wise" a cough that covered up some mumbling sounded from the passenger seat. "I'll take that as heartfelt agreement. The answer that you so desire is that flying regional in Mexico is...a delicate operation. It requires lots of green pieces of paper that we don't have. But we do have a car."

"So we drive."

"Until we hit Chihuahua, then we eat the best tacos you've ever had."

* * *

Callen sat up from the reclined passenger seat. He rubbed his eyes and hit the lever to get the chair back upright. He looked over at Deeks who was staring out the windshield.

"Do you want to switch again?"

Deeks looked over and nodded. They drove until the spotted a bar on the side of the road. Deeks pulled to the side of the road and they switched places by the neon light spilling out of the windows. They settled back into the seats and Callen pulled back onto the road.

"How's your leg?"

Deeks massaged around the wound and tapped the gauze under his pants. "Feels good, considering I've been using it to drive. I think I owe Jorge a Thank You card because his glue job is holding tight."

"That's good. If we keep this pace we should be in Chihuahua for lunch and then Juarez for dinner."

"Are the tacos that good?"

Callen barked a laugh, "Never had any better, except in a little restaurant in Tucson but it turns out the chef is from Chihuahua."

"Wake me up when we get there, wouldn't want to miss the magic."

* * *

"I think that was the town limit sign for Juarez. Can't really tell because of all the bullet holes in it."

Callen laughed, "I think some of those were aimed at me."

"You going to tell me what happened here?"

"I'll give you the post-it note version. Back when I was CIA there was a cartel down here that was gearing up to do an attack on the United States. They decided that they wanted to take control of the area on the other side of the border, much like how they would go into a little rural town and clean it out. They would change the town into a sort of fort or camp to create tactical advantages against the other cartels. This group decided that in order to better get their product into America, they would do the same thing; straddle the border and control the flow of product."

"That would be like declaring war on the States."

"Exactly. The borders would lock down, nothing would move in or out and they would control the only access point. They were ready, there was enough ammunition to hold out for at least a few months."

"So what did you do?"

"There was another cartel in the city that was constantly fighting with the one that wanted to attack. When I explained to them the significance of the plan, they aided in the removal of the cartel. The surviving cartel has taken the name of Juarez Cartel to signify that they own the town. That bandana is from them and it's their colours."

"So they're just going to let you in after all these years? Why would they want to help you?"

"Two reasons, Lefty's been terrorizing them for the last three years and they owe me."

"How do they owe you? They helped you."

Callen smiled, "That story is too long to fit on a post-it note and besides, we're here." He pulled the car up to a gate and rolled down the window. The muzzle of the AK-47 found its way into Callen's face. The sound of guns being cocked reverberated through the car.

With slow movements, Callen dug the bandana out from underneath his leg. He pulled it up and waggled it. Some rapid Spanish was exchanged and then the gate slid open. Callen took his foot off the break and drove the car to the front walkway. He jerked his head at Deeks and they stepped out of the car. There was a minor ruckus coming from the house but due to the sun they couldn't see what was happening. They stood on the edge of the driveway and saw people breaking off the pack that formed in the shade.

One such person stalked up to Callen and without warning slapped him across the face.

Deeks, stunned, reacted like he normally would. "Woah! Dude, you just got smoked. That'll leave a mark. Heh, heh, heh..."

Callen, with a hand resting on the welt that was forming, turned his head towards his partner. "I'll poke you in your bullet hole if you ever mention this."

"What is it about you people threatening to further harm me when I've been shot?"

With a shake of his head, Callen turned back to the person who had just slapped him. "Lucinda, good to see you again."

"You don't call, you don't write, how do we know you're not dead?"

Callen held his hands up and appeared to be trying to calm her like a horse. "Didn't you get the message I sent?"

Lucinda raised her hand, "It said 'He's not dead.' That's it...you could have been injured, especially with all the lead following you as you left."

Callen sighed, "I had to go to Bosnia. I figured the note would be enough."

Deeks loped over to the twosome and raised his hand. "Can I ask what is going on?"

"Who's he?" Lucinda looked Deeks up and down. "And why are his pants bleeding?"

Callen and Deeks glanced at the patch of blood on the pant leg. Deeks sighed, "It's old blood, I ran out of clean pants."

"So you chose to put on the pants you were shot in?"

Deeks shrugged, "They're comfortable, I've got them worked in the way I like them." They stared at each other for a moment. "I realize this is the moment where you roll your eyes. Don't make yourself dizzy, I got it."

Lucinda held out her hand, "Give me your pants, I'll get the stain out." She wiggled her fingers.

"Now?" Deeks mouth gaped open a bit and his hands travelled to cover his belt buckle. "My other pants are in the trunk, it'll only take a minute to get them and if you could just show me the bathroom because I'd rather not drop my drawers in the middle of a driveway."

Callen rolled his head to face Deeks, "She's messing with you; she doesn't know how to work the washing machine. You need to talk to Delores."

Lucinda swung her head between the two, and then decided to go with it. She laughed and then waved for them to follow her. "Obviously you're here for business. Come, let's sit and talk."

* * *

Once they were settled into their chairs, Lucinda introduced Deeks to herself and to her brother Alfonso. They were officially in the lions' den, but presently the lions were not hungry. Deeks shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, as he peered around the room. The house, if you excluded all the security measures, seemed like your average mansion. Expensive art, high-end appliances, and carefully chosen decor signified the money that flowed through the owners' hands.

"Now, why have you come back after all these years?" Lucinda pierced Callen with a glare.

Callen sheepishly smiled, "We were in the area." A snort sounded from Deeks. "Well, kind of in the area. Within a day's drive."

Alfonso sighed, "Always the difficult one when answering questions."

"You don't have to tell me." Deeks chimed in.

Callen huffed. "Fine. We have some information and would like to reach a solution that is mutually beneficial."

Lucinda placed her tea cup down on the table beside her. She folded her hands and cleared her throat. "_Senor_ Callen, when we first met many years ago, our group was young and brash. Over the years we have grown older and more dignified in our dealings. What happened then will never happen again."

"I hoped not. No, this problem is a single person."

"We are not assassins."

"But he is."

Gasping, Lucinda and Alfonso traded looks. Rapid Spanish filled the air punctuated by hand gestures. Deeks and Callen looked on as the conversation ping ponged between the siblings.

Finally Alfonso spoke, "Have you found him? The devil's man?"

Callen nodded.

Hesitant, Lucinda asked "Is he close?"

Callen bit his lip, "Very close, but it will be a challenge to get to him."

In unison Lucinda and Alfonso said "He's at the Ortega's."

Alfonso rubbed his chin, "A challenge, _si_, but we have resources. What do you want done with him?"

Callen looked to Deeks, who took a breath and answered "End his career by whatever measures necessary."


	15. Day 15

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, I would've paid for internet access at the hotel this past week or paid someone to haul my laptop to the conference centre for free WiFi. Rock and a hard place...chose option C: no internet.  
**A/N:** Coolness...ya'll are still leaving reviews! Thanks Somnuim1, beverlie4055, shestarsky, jmlane1966 (x2), Jasmine-Now-Leaves, and Kaylen Cooper for dropping notes.

* * *

**Day 15**

Everyone was motivated to start the planning stage on their attack on Lefty, but saner heads had prevailed and it was set on the backburner until the next day. Supper, a hot shower, and a bed were moved from the backburner to the front one by Lucinda's insistence that neither Callen nor Deeks was any good to her starving, stinky, or sleepy. Alfonso smirked and nodded his agreement. Dolores had fed them and showed them each a guest room. Safe for the first time they left LA, they fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows and had to drag themselves out of the soft beds the next morning.

The smell of coffee led them both to the kitchen where they found their hosts wrapping their hands around steaming cups. Once Dolores had filled their stomachs again and Deeks had thanked her for washing his pants, the foursome found their way back to the chairs of yesterday and settled in for some preparation.

Callen, knowing more of the situation than anyone, took the lead.

"Here's what we know: Ricardo Vega is a hitman that up until two years ago was a freelancer. He is known by the US intelligence community as 'Lefty' because of his signature kill style. Two years ago he was recruited by Diego Rojas to work for the LDD. He seems to have found a home with them and is content to stay there. His background is patchy, but we know he is originally from Uruguay but fell into the life after being pulled into a now defunct gang. From what we can piece together, his father took a loan and when he couldn't pay, the leaders took Ricardo as payment. He stayed with them until he was 20 and had moved up the chain of command to a high position. He left for greener pastures with the cartels after the men who originally took him were found dead. We believe this was his first hit.

"From there he bounced around from cartel to gang to guerilla group. He's racked up the bodies. His signature is that he cuts off the left hand of each of his kills. We believed it was because he is left-handed, and this has been somewhat confirmed. We don't know what he does with the hands. He also seems to enjoy torturing people at times but evidence of that has decreased over the last two years and it's probably because Diego's got him on a shorter leash than he's used to.

"He is presently holed up at the Ortega's and has roughly a week and a half to stay. Unfortunately time is not mine or Deeks' side, so we need to finish this fast."

Lucinda and Alfonso absorbed the information and sat for some time mulling it over. Finally Lucinda spoke, "I assume that we have some ideas?"

Alfonso started, "We cannot get to him within the building; no one will break the agreement that we have all made." Nods came from around the tight circle.

Lucinda asked, "Can we offer him a job?"

Callen grimaced, "I don't think that money will motivate him to leave the safety he has early."

A throat cleared from Deeks' chair and he grinned a bit as he leaned forward. "What are the two main motivators for a crime?" He held up two fingers and looked at Callen.

"Greed, but that one's out. Revenge, but I don't think he has a lot of loyalty to Diego; he can easily go back to his old life as long as his real identity doesn't come out. It sounds as though he might be happy to be off the leash"

Deeks folded down the fingers, "Which brings us to where we'll get him – self-preservation. He needs to protect his identity."

Callen thought about that for a moment. "If we can add anger into the mix we can get him off-balanced easier. How do we do it?"

"What about telling him that someone from the raid tipped off the DEA and it leaked?" Deeks offered.

Callen nodded, "I agree. We need a way to force him out."

"Does he get news or will the people running the place tell him what's going on outside the compound?" The question came from Deeks who wasn't as familiar with this safe-house concept.

Lucinda supplied the answer, "Yes, if he asks, but most people don't want to know. They treat it as a vacation from the world."

"One more question, are the Ortega's truly the Swiss? I mean, do they seriously have no biases?"

Alfonso frowned, "I know that one of the men killed by this man was a relative of theirs, but they are professionals."

The corner of Deeks' mouth tugged upwards. "Just because they're not going to kick him out doesn't mean they can't play some mind games and drop some hints."

Callen's eyes crinkled. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Imagine that the people who live here and in the area find out who is hiding in the Ortega's? They know that he can stay there for two weeks. Plans are made to stake out the compound around the time that his two weeks are up. Suppose these plans made their way to Ricardo's ears. He has two options, he can stay there for the full time and face certain death or he can sneak out the back like the coward he is and save his own hide."

Alfonso's mouth formed a wolfish grin, "We can control when he leaves by starting the occupation early. He'll fall into our hands."

* * *

Whispers drew him around the corner. Ricardo found himself facing two members of the Ortega family talking in hushed tones. He caught some words that perked his interest. He cleared his throat and they noticed him there.

"_Pardon, senor._"

"No, continue, what was it you were discussing?"

The one on the left shifted nervously and looked at the other. The made some motions, shifted their eyes and finally the one said, "It's about him, he deserves to know." The other sighed and nodded in agreement.

"We have word from the city. It appears that your identity has been spread throughout and there are plans for when you leave."

"What do you mean my identity? I'm running from the attack in Columbia by the DEA."

"No, sir, your _real_ identity." A look down at his left hand had them scrambling to get away.

Ricardo lifted his left hand and considered it. He wasn't surprised, but it was inconvenient. He moved to his room and packed his bag. He then went to look for the owner of the compound to get as much information from him as possible.

* * *

Ricardo had squeezed the details out of the Ortega's patriarch and had worked to hold the fear in. This was no trivial matter, it sounded as though all his enemies were gathering to fight for the chance to kill him the moment he stepped out of any door. They were scheduled to start their encampment the following morning which meant he had only a few hours to get as far from this place as he could. He threw his bag out the window and hopped out himself. He gathered up his possessions and made his way across to the low fence. The Ortega's compound was the only one without massive security measures because the deal brokered with the cartels protected it well enough. He slung the bag over the fence and hopped over himself.

He started walking down the road where he crashed into another man. He moved to pull out his knife when the light from the next compound's security lamps showed his face.

"Mikhail?"

The figure hauled in a breath that hitched. "Who?"

Ricardo moved so that the light hit his face as well. "It's me, Ricardo."

Mikhail grabbed onto his shoulder. "You survived."

Ricardo was confused, why was this man so weak and surprised at his survival? "_Si_, what is wrong?"

"I've fought my way to the Ortega's, I need safety."

"What happened?"

"Dead, they're all dead."

"Who is dead?"

"Diego, the other men, the agents...and Jake."

* * *

**A/N:** Due to a very stressful October I needed some comic relief. There's now an epilogue to this story. Heh heh heh.


	16. Day 16

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, this wouldn't have taken so long to finish.  
**A/N:** It has been quite a while since I've updated, at the beginning of the break I was too busy and too cross-eyed-tired to turn on my computer, then I wasn't sure where to take the story, then I wrote the ending, and finally have finished this part. I decided that whoever has stuck around deserves a good ending. Thanks for to SwanQueen4055, Sweet Lu, Dalek Warrior, a guest, and tmmdeathwishraven for leaving reviews on the previous chapter.

The next update will be in two weeks.

* * *

**Day 16**

Deeks glanced out the window as he paced the room. Alfonso had sent his lieutenants to keep an eye on the Ortega house and follow Ricardo and Callen. They had reported back that they found the hide-out house and secured vantage points in various buildings surrounding the house. The room that Deeks was pacing was in the house directly across the road and they could see in the front windows. Alfonso had broken out some surveillance equipment and they were scanning the house for body heat signatures. Presently, there were two.

Alfonso ambled over to the box Lucinda had packed into the car before they left. He dug around and pulled out a container of food. Some more digging yielded a fork so he settled back into his chair and tucked into the food.

Deeks crossed the floor five more times, sometimes with big steps and sometimes with little steps before Alfonso broke the silence.

"Are you going to sit at any point?"

Slightly startled, Deeks froze. He turned towards Alfonso who was watching him with an amused grin.

Sheepishly Deeks admitted "I've never really been on this side of an operation with this much danger."

Alfonso grinned, "You are worried about Callen? Have you not heard about how he turned this town upside-down by himself? I worry more about not finishing all of this food. Come, help me."

Deeks sighed, dropped his hands onto his hips, and then gave in. He walked over to the bin of food and dug out a container and fork for himself. He settled into the chair beside Alfonso and stuck his feet up on the table. They each cleaned out their respective containers as they rotated between watching the screen and the front of the house.

Deeks had finished cleaning out his container when he asked the question that was nagging at him. "How did you get access to all these houses so fast?"

A look of satisfaction spread across Alfonso's face. "They all decided to go on a vacation or visit some relatives last night."

"Uhh...like an actual vacation...right?" Uncertainty coloured Deeks' tone.

"Yes, my men suggested that the residents would not want to be present for the next few days. We have gentrified our operation. Besides, the desert only has so much room for bodies."

A quick look from Deeks confirmed that Alfonso was being semi-serious about the last part.

* * *

The day dragged on as Deeks and Alfonso kept an eye on their side of the house. Reports would come in on the hour from the people watching the other sides of the house. No one entered or exited the house. Deeks had asked about whether or not it was possible for there to be an underground escape route and Alfonso had tasked some of his men to figure that problem out. How they did it, Deeks didn't want to know. As the day became hotter, the usefulness of looking for heat signatures was lost and the equipment was packed away.

A knock sounded at the back door and Alfonso moved to answer it. He came back to the room, followed by three dirty men.

"Deeks, meet Mario, Esteban, and Julio, they are my best tunnel men and have a report." Alfonso pointed out the men and then motioned for them to talk.

The one in the middle, Esteban, stepped forward and cleared his throat. "We have checked the official records and there was no basement listed. We found Luis, who built the house, and he swears on his mother's grave that there is no basement and no tunnels. Then we checked ourselves and we can confirm that there is no basement and no tunnels. The only exit from that building is through the doors and windows."

Alfonso shook each of the men's hands and Deeks thanked them and then they went on their way. Once the door was shut, Deeks shifted in his chair and finally stood up and began to pace the room.

"Aw, you are not going to start that again, are you?" Alfonso settled back into his chair. "You make me feel tired."

Deeks smirked, crossed his arms, and turned around at the wall to start back. "Maybe you could use the exercise."

"Tell me this, why are you so worried?"

He finished that length, walked to the centre of the room and sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

"_Si_, it is my friend in there as well, I would like to know if I must be more concerned."

Deeks dropped his arms to his side and stared at Alfonso, who had turned to face him. "You have heard stories of what this man is capable of doing; however I lived through it. He's beyond ruthless. I won't feel good again until he's unable to hurt anyone else ever again." With that, he turned and walked from the room.

Alfonso was left staring at the empty space that Deeks had just occupied. "Well," he said to himself, "maybe we will make room in the desert for this one."

* * *

Unknowingly, Callen's actions during the morning had mirrored that of his partner. With nowhere to go and an unstable and unpredictable hitman roaming the house, Callen had taken to pacing the front room. The blinds were shut tight and every lock locked, but he trusted that Alfonso had done his part and had the building surrounded.

Ricardo had convinced an edgy Mikhail that the safe house he had set up years ago was still viable so they had run across town and snuck in. Ricardo had locked himself inside the windowless room in the centre of the house, leaving Callen to fend for himself. He had laughed to himself; Ricardo's partners historically had very short life-expectancies and now he knew why. Bolstered by the deep sleep he had gotten the previous night, Callen catnapped in one of the other beds, never fully falling asleep.

The morning had been uneventful, Callen had gone around checking out all the doors and windows while Ricardo had rummaged around in the very small, hand-dug basement. Ricardo finally came up, cursing and snapping. Apparently he had been under the impression that there was a tunnel system that the house was linked into but there was no entrance. The only way out was through the doors. Callen had learned that there were a series of cameras and sensors hooked up around the outside of the house. That meant that any attack Alfonso and Deeks planned would be seen. Especially since Ricardo had barricaded himself back into the little room. There was only one way Callen could pass on a message but there was nothing he could do until it was dark. Good thing he was patient.

* * *

Deeks had returned from his roam around the neighbourhood. At first he wasn't paying attention where he was going, but then when the fog of anger cleared from his head he realized that what he was doing was incredibly dangerous. He spun around as he felt a presence behind him to find one of Alfonso's men following him. They stared at each other for a moment and then Deeks felt a burst of pain go through his leg. He'd forgotten about the fact that he had been shot and the leg was nowhere near healed yet. He sagged against the nearest wall and the man assigned to follow him ran up. The man handed him a cane and Deeks rolled his eyes at the ground.

Before Callen had hopped out of the truck to 'casually run into Ricardo' as he had termed it, he handed Deeks a cane while Alfonso roared with laughter. Apparently it had been Callen's when he had come to their town the first time but forgot it. Lucinda had packed away, certain that Callen would return one day and claim it.

Deeks breathed through the pain and when it was manageable, he took a few hobbled steps with the cane. The man walked beside him with his arms up, ready to steady his boss's new friend if need be. Together they walked back to the house and Deeks was surprised how far he had managed to come. Then again, he was more focused on the scenes playing in his head than the scenery around him. Finally they found themselves at the back door of the house and Deeks went inside to find Alfonso throwing a tennis ball up and down.

"Manuel get you back here safe?"

A little sheepish, Deeks gave a small smile. "Yeah, I wasn't really thinking straight when I took off." He hobbled to his chair and settled into it. "Any movement?"

"No, but the light is fading so we should be able to put our plan into action."

* * *

Callen peeked outside yet again and decided that it was dark enough. He lifted the corner of the curtain to get a good grip and angled the lamp into a better position. He then opened and closed the curtain in a precise sequence. He repeated it numerous times. Finally, he decided that any more times would not help his cause. He walked over to the gas stove and turned on all the burners. One end of a long strip of fabric ripped off of the curtains was stuffed in the crevices of the stove and Callen lit the other end that was hanging off of the stove with a battery that he short-circuited with a wire.

He walked over to Ricardo's door and with more calmness than he felt, knocked on the door and told him that he had some supper. When Ricardo twisted open the lock and turned the handle Callen sprung into action. With a giant shove, the door popped open and Callen rammed through it. He slammed it shut again, but not quite fast enough as he could hear the hiss of the fireball coming around the corner. The fabric had burned up faster than he expected. A flame shot through the crack in the door as Callen pushed it shut against the pressure of the exploding gas. His left side paid the price and he felt the sear of the heat as it blistered his exposed skin.

Ricardo, shocked into silence, exploded once the explosion outside finished. He launched himself at Callen, throwing a punch straight for his face. Callen's arm went up in an attempt to defend himself, but Ricardo had momentum on his side. The energy was dissipated by the arm block, but the punch carried through and bounced off of Callen's forehead. Dazed, he spun to the side to present a smaller target. The next punch hit him squarely in the shoulder, the pain of which was compounded by the burned skin. Callen composed himself and caught the foot coming towards his stomach. He grabbed it and twisted it violently. Unfortunately Ricardo spun with it and ripped it out of his grasp.

Callen fought to get on the offensive; a left hook here, a right jab there. Ricardo was matching him with every hit. No punch went unanswered. Callen found he was landing as many as he was taking. A particularly nasty uppercut seemed to daze Ricardo and Callen stepped back to set up for a combination. Ricardo snapped out of it quickly and landed a blistering kick to the side of Callen's ribs. He felt a crack reverberate through his midsection but there was no time to waste as Ricardo was coming on strong. Unfamiliar with the room, Ricardo pushed him back and right over a suitcase. Footing lost, Callen landed hard on the ground and Ricardo pounced on top of him, kneeing him in his injured ribs.

Unwilling to let his partner down, Callen moved and kicked, trying desperately to knock Ricardo off of him. His head twisted to face Ricardo and his eyes grew as he saw a fist coming straight for him and nowhere to move.

* * *

Alfonso scrunched up his nose, "My men are reporting some light coming out of the corner of the house." He spoke rapidly into the radio. "It appears to be Morse code. The letters are: A...F...E...R...O...O...M...S. What is 'afe rooms'?"

Deeks' face soured. "There's no such thing." He wrote the letters on a piece of paper and stared at them. "Wait! He means 'safe room' or 'room safe' but under the conditions, I'm going to guess the first one. Why does he want us to know there's a safe room?"

The two stared at each other, each trying to get into the mind of Callen to figure out what he was trying to tell them. In the midst of their thinking, the house across the street erupted. The windows blew out, fire raced out and leapt for the sky. Everyone in the vicinity ducked and covered their heads. As fast as the fireball appeared, it whooshed out of sight, never to be seen again. The two men, frozen with eyes round, found their minds blank. After a beat, they raced into motion, grabbing their guns and running over to the house. Alfonso's men followed close behind.

"We're looking for the safe room!" Deeks shouted out and then blasted through the broken door. He scanned the empty rooms and launched himself into the hallway. There he found a closed door and smirked to himself. He was about to kick the door down when Alfonso pulled him back and did it for him. It swung open to show Ricardo holding Callen down and about to hammer a fist down onto his face.

Sheer adrenaline pushed Deeks through the door. He grabbed Ricardo by the back of his shirt and threw him at Alfonso who met his head with the butt of his gun. The hitman sunk like a rock to the floor, unconscious. Callen lay on the floor staring up at Deeks and half-grinned at him. Deeks held out his hand to help him up and Callen grabbed onto it.

"Oh! No, this isn't going to work." Callen let go of Deeks hand at the same time as Deeks hissed in pain. Callen grabbed at his ribs and Deeks fell against the table holding his leg.

Alfonso smirked. "Well, don't you two make quite the pair." He laughed and gestured at his men to pick up the fallen Ricardo. "Come, let us return to the house across the road to plan our next move."


	17. Day 17

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, this would be happening on a TV screen, not a computer  
**A/N: **Thanks for coming back! Thanks to lizard1969, Somnium1, guest, guest m, rebecca taylor, and a guest for leaving notes. They are very appreciated.

* * *

**Day 17**

Too wired to sleep and too sore not to sleep, Callen and Deeks had fallen into the chairs that Alfonso and Deeks had occupied earlier. Callen had poked and prodded himself to find what hurt the most. Deeks had massaged his leg, trying to ease the lingering pain. Exhaustion had taken over quickly and when Alfonso returned from securing their new prisoner, he had found the partners asleep.

"They're going to have sore necks in the morning" he mused to himself. He grabbed two of his men and together they moved the chairs against the wall so that Alfonso could prop up pillows behind their heads. He then returned to the room where Ricardo was tied up. One of the men had come to them from the rodeo circuit and had bound Ricardo's hands and feet in a flash of rope. The man was sitting against the wall sneering at anyone who walked by. Alfonso organized the guard schedule and then retreated to an empty room to make a very important phone call.

* * *

The next morning came with a burst of sunshine and not a cloud in the sky. Callen woke up first, stretched, and then spent the next minute doing some quick and shallow breathing. There was definitely a broken if not multiple broken ribs on his right side. Ugly bruises had formed where Ricardo had landed punches and the flash burns had tightened his skin which pulled every time he moved. Over all, he wasn't in the best shape.

Deeks had managed to curl himself up on his chair in some sort of contortionist position and was softly snoring. The sunlight lit the blond in his hair aglow and highlighted the dark circles under his eyes that Callen hadn't noticed before. The stress that had built over the length of this case had taken its toll on both of them, but it seemed that Deeks was holding it in his gut based on how loose his pants and shirt were hanging on him.

"I promise the first night we're back, we're going to a steak house and fatten you up." Callen slid the words out under his breath as he worked his way out of his chair. He limped out of the room, working blood through his stiff muscles and by the time he found Alfonso, he was very stiff, but standing upright. Alfonso handed him a cup of coffee and sipped his own.

"Deeks awake?" Alfonso asked.

"Not yet. What's the plan?" Callen carefully took a drink, knowing that Alfonso like his coffee strong and black. The caffeine coursed through his system and the warmth radiated out, further loosening up his muscles.

Alfonso waved his cup in the direction of the front room and headed there. Deeks was still curled up on his seat, but his eyes were open just a slit. He shifted his head when the two walked in and gazed at them through half-opened lids.

"How does one circle a chair seat like that?" the corner of Alfonso's mouth lifted in a half smile.

"I've slept in worse" Deeks chuckled, and Callen knew it to be true. Deeks untangled himself and stretched. Alfonso handed him a cup of coffee and waited until Deeks had taken a sip and asked "What now?"

"Now, we go for a ride."

* * *

The ride was mercifully short. Callen sat propped up by the door, but once the truck left the road, the ride became rough and Deeks pulled him over to lean on him instead. With an arm wrapped around Deeks' shoulder, Callen was able to use his teammate as a cushion for his ribs. Alfonso sat in the last seat of the back bench of the crew cab behind the passenger seat. The man who rode in the front passenger seat was holding a shot-gun in one hand and had two pistols in shoulder holsters. They were followed by a Jeep holding similarly armed men except for one.

The last man in the jeep was different. He carried no guns, but several knives were tucked into his boots, his belt, and one strategically placed in his hat. In the cargo area sat a knapsack holding containers of water, protein bars, and a satellite phone. He sat very still, his eyes half closed as he travelled down the familiar roads.

Finally, both vehicles came to a stop at a spot that looked no different than the vastness they had travelled through. Everyone waited for a moment as the dust settled around them before opening the doors and jumping down to the hard-packed sand. The shot guns were cocked and held at an angle, but still in position to be brought up rapidly. Though it appeared that the guards were at ease, the intelligence in their eyes and the tightness in their muscles were loudly proclaiming that they were not relaxed. A semi-circle formed around the back of the truck and the two drivers moved to the tailgate. The locks on the cap and tailgate were opened, the cap door released, and the tailgate dropped.

A bound and gagged Ricardo lay in the bed fuming. The drivers reached in and yanked him out. The shot guns were raised to shoulder level when Alfonso walked over and cut the ropes holding his feet and hands together. Ricardo was many things, but he was not stupid enough to make a move while being held at multiple gun point. Alfonso turned and walked back to his spot in the circle. Callen and Deeks stood shoulder to shoulder, Deeks had his arms crossed and his feet firmly planted, weight on his good leg. He had positioned himself on Callen's weak side – the one with ribs that had to be broken. Callen's shoulder would sway against Deeks' and rest there for a moment until the pressure on the ribs would subside enough to stand up straight again.

Ricardo tugged the gag out of his mouth and sneered. He spit the fibres from the gag out of his mouth and tried to work some moisture into his dry tongue. His eyes darted around the group, never landing, but always glinting with anger.

Alfonso cleared his throat and brought the focus of Ricardo, Deeks, and Callen to himself. The other men had a job to do, and besides, some of them had already heard this speech multiple times.

"You are guilty of many crimes; some are similar to what the present company has committed and for that we cannot condemn you. However, you have carried out heinous acts against our enemies and our allies and family alike. For this, we sentence you to _el valle de la muerte_." Alfonso paused and Deeks whispered the translation under his breath – the valley of death.

Alfonso continued, "If God be with you, may he walk beside you through to the other side."

Realization of the situation began to seep through Ricardo's mind. They watched as minute tells of his emotions raged across his face, the anger, the desire to plead, the desire to fight, more anger, and then finally, an uneasy acceptance. He forced his head high and turned to stalk in the direction in which Alfonso pointed. The group moved from their positions to watch as the man walked down the slight hill into the path that lead through the gently sloping valley walls. When he was far enough away that the heat was beginning to distort his body, Alfonso turned towards the man with the backpack and nodded. He returned the nod and set down the same path.

Alfonso moved over to where Callen was sitting on the tailgate while Deeks leaned against the side of the truck.

"That man, we call him _el Fantasma_, or the Ghost. He was born in this desert and has walked these sands all his life. He will follow Ricardo and report on his decision."

Deeks had to ask, just to be sure, "His decision on what?"

Alfonso looked the blonde square in the eye, took a breath and answered, "On how he decides to kill himself."

* * *

The drive back had been done in silence and the mood in the house was difficult to gauge. On one hand, the partners were happy to see that Ricardo had been caught and handed a punishment that would be served out. On the other hand neither one had ever watched such a sentence being handed out.

They had settled in the den and debated back and forth. The discussion had gone in circles and they were becoming frustrated with each other. Lucinda finally stepped in the room and took a seat where both men could see him.

"You are having a difficult time with our method of justice, yes?" The question came out more as a statement. Callen and Deeks caught each other's eyes and slowly nodded. She smoothed her skirt and asked "How would you prefer it?"

Deeks crinkled his nose and frowned; Callen squinted at their host and then took a stab at answering. "A show-down where we're all armed and his heart is double-tapped with our bullets."

"You wish to be responsible for this man's death?" There was a lightness in her voice that did not match the weight of the question.

"I wish to know for certain that he is dead." The force of Callen's statement set Lucinda back a bit in her seat.

She recovered quickly "Why – for revenge or vengeance?"

Deeks took up answering and thoughtfully said "Vengeance. My experience with him…sucked…but others had it much worse. They deserve justice."

Lucinda caught the pause and continued her questions. "I agree, vengeance and justice are the proper reasons. However, why do you want to carry the weight of this death with you if you needn't?" Her eyes cut to Callen, "and don't tell me there is no weight. You have aged since you were first here." A pointed glare silenced any argument.

"We've killed many people." Deeks stated.

"In defense, no? How many have you executed?"

Deeks mouthed none and Callen thought for a moment, wanting to argue, then gave in and shook his head.

Lucinda gestured towards the cross hanging on the wall. "Alfonso has given the same speech to everyone who has entered that valley. We have all done things that exclude us from 'throwing the first stone' at a guilty party because, as guilty people, how are we able to distinguish who is actually guilty? Instead, we send them off into the valley. If God deems that they are undeserving of such punishment, He will carry them through."

"Has anyone come through the valley?" Deeks asked, slightly worried that Ricardo would find his way through.

With a gentle smile, Lucinda eased both his conscience and his worries. "It is possible; the Ghost has done it many times. However, the lack of any other distractions drives men to have their thoughts as their only companions. Let me be clear, we reserve the desert for only the worst of the worst.

She stood and left the men with their thoughts. No sooner had she left the room, a soft knock sounded at the door. The Ghost glided into the room and swiped off his hat.

"He chose Transgression Cliff. It is the highest point in the valley. Ricardo is no more."

"Transgression Cliff?" Callen squinted at the man.

"Every man who enters the valley eventually finds their way there. They recite all the evils they have done and then" the Ghost moved his hand in an upside down U. It was enough, the 'cliff' gave them a good idea what he was referring to.

"So…he's dead?" Deeks asked.

The Ghost nodded and everyone lowered their eyes, reflecting on the journey that brought them to this point. Callen and Deeks ran through the case that started it all, the travelling and the friends that had helped them along the way. The Ghost considered the men in front of him. He had heard of this Ricardo, or Lefty, and what he had done. Peace filled his soul because he was able to bring this closure.

"How did you get here so fast?" Alfonso skidded into the room and looked at his watch. "Either you really are a ghost or he didn't go far into the valley."

"It was Transgression Cliff." Alfonso looked back at his watch again, doing the math. "I'm here so quickly because I caught a passing mule."

The ridiculousness of the statement hung in the air for a moment and then broke the tension that had laid over the group for too long. Callen snorted and Deeks smirked. Alfonso knocked the Ghost in the shoulder and then everyone laughed.

"Come, the time for sadness is over. Now, we eat!" Alfonso announced.

"And tomorrow," Callen glanced over at the grin splitting Deeks' face, "We go home." The grin grew even bigger.


	18. Day 18

**Brothers in Arms**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS:LA, if I did, there would be credits rolling at the end.  
**A/N:** That's right, this is the final chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who read this story and left reviews (specifically Somnium1, Sweet Lu, keviana, Orchad94, and guest m for the last chapter). This took some turns I didn't plan at the beginning but I think the end result is better with them. Considering this is the first piece of writing that has a beginning, middle, and end that I've ever finished, I'm happy that I like it and that you've liked it.

* * *

**Day 18**

The line to cross the border was long and they had a lot of time to talk. They started by each trading a question and stories began to flow. By the time they made it to the gate, they were in such a good mood that the fact that they had no passports had completely slipped their minds.

The border agent was having none of their explanations about how they had lost the passports somewhere between Costa Rica and the present, which wasn't necessarily a lie, and sent them up to the main building. The each explained who they were to a disbelieving supervisor, but since it was his job, and he wasn't too busy, he set about searching the databases and found Deeks' file from the LAPD. He did some quick comparisons and convinced by the matched fingerprints, he decided to believe him. Deeks then used his superior clearance to access Callen's file and the process was repeated. The agent agreed that according to the files, Deeks and Callen were who they said they were.

Triumphant, they readied themselves to go back to their car. However, the agent continued that it didn't mean that the files couldn't be tampered with. There were further steps he would have to take to verify their story. Which meant getting a hold of their bosses. Although they didn't show it on the outside, the magnitude of that statement hit hard. Hetty would find out and they would be in deep trouble. Maybe they didn't _really_ want to go back. However, before any steps could be taken, a man walked out of his office and into the room they were in.

"Deeks? Marty Deeks? I haven't seen you in years!"

"Paulie?" What are you doing here?" Deeks turned at the voice and grinned.

"It's Paul, thank you very much. I transferred over to border patrol after a couple more years in vice. I was tired of the life and I kind of like living down here...better waves."

The supervisor cut in, "Sir, can you verify that this is Martin Deeks?"

Paul looked puzzled. "Yeah, spent two years working with him. What's the problem?"

Deeks answered him, "We lost our passports and we're trying to get home."

"You working?"

"Yes." Callen answered for Deeks, not wanting the man to have to lie to an old colleague. "I'm Callen, his partner."

Deeks smiled slightly at Callen introducing him as his partner. "We had some cleaning up to do. I'm liasing with NCIS now."

Paul nodded and smiled "Cool. Well, I'd be the person who would have to do the investigation to prove that you are who you say you are and I'll save the taxpayers some money. These men are who they say there are. Let them in."

The supervisor put away all his papers and they were sent on their way. Paul chased them down before they could get down the front steps. "Marty, here's my card. Call me if you're ever down this way again. Maybe you can fill me in on this little trip you took." Deeks took the card and nodded.

* * *

The Gremlin chugged its way through the streets of LA. Callen had finally come over to Deeks' side and was starting to feel a fondness for the car that had gotten them out of Mexico. If Deeks didn't want to keep it, he just might.

"You know, I have an empty space in my garage."

Deeks smiled, "We'll figure it out. I just can't wait to see Sam's face when he sees it. This is truly a piece of American history. Think he'd want to restore it?"

At that they both laughed. Callen smirked, "I wonder what he'll name it."

They finally pulled into the lot outside the office. They sat in the car a moment, knowing that the security cameras had picked them up the moment Callen got out of the car to manually punch in the access code. Eric and Nell were probably up in Ops watching them park at this very moment.

They hauled themselves out of the car and shut the doors. Deeks pressed on the top part of the key and made a beeping noise. At Callen's questioning look, he said that he was setting the alarm. Because neither of them wanted to see it stolen. Callen tipped his head toward the cane that he had picked up for Deeks but he shook his head.

"No need for Hetty to have a reason to say 'I told you so.'" Deeks responded.

"It's your choice." Callen levered open the door and motioned for Deeks to go in first. Side by side they walked down the hallway towards the open courtyard. Standing by herself in the centre was Hetty. A cloud of fury roiled around her and was repelling anyone else from coming close. The two kept walking at an even pace that was slow enough to let Deeks hide his limp.

Two words came out of her mouth but the force behind them removed the option for any rebuttal.

"Upstairs. Now."

She led the way and they climbed the stairs. Deeks held onto the banister and made it up with little problems. Waiting for them in the room was Kensi, Sam, Eric, and Nell. The abandoned partners stood straight and tall, arms crossed, and barely restrained rage sparking in their eyes.

Hetty waved at Eric to pull up what obviously had been pre-arranged.

"Would either of you care to explain this?"

The screen filled with various reports. There was one detailing how two unnamed federal agents aided in the raid on Diego's compound from the DEA. There was another about the fiasco in Mexico. A CIA report that was heavily redacted stated that a hit man by the name of Ricardo had been killed by a rival cartel of the LDD's. Finally there were two requests for their files time-stamped the hour they went through the Mexico-US border.

Callen was impressed at how they had figured out what the two of them had been up to. He decided that he had to diffuse the tension and put the questions off to a later time. Hetty did actually have all the answers she needed, there was just one that she wanted.

He pointed at Deeks and blurted out "He has a bullet hole and shrapnel in his leg."

Deeks mouth dropped open but he was quick to recover. "It's just a scratch and Jorge got most of it out. He has flash burns and that haven't been treated."

Callen turned to face him, "Mild sunburn. You got your brains scrambled by a fist the size of boulder."

Deeks matched him and retorted "Bah, didn't feel a thing. You camped out in the jungle, how do you know you didn't get bitten by an infected bug? Not to mention the crunchy ribs."

Callen opened his mouth but Hetty interrupted him "Gentlemen! It is clear that the first place you will be going is a health facility where you will both get full physicals. You will not leave until the medical professionals of my choosing say you may leave."

Amid the groans and the complaining from Callen and Deeks, Callen caught a quick smile flit across Hetty's face. She needed to be reassured that the two of them had faced the lion's den and come out, not only unscathed, but stronger.

They had.

So Callen pushed off his foot and turned back to the group. He smiled at them, "Case closed."

Sam turned towards Deeks and pointed at his chest, "You and I have to have a talk; a Navy SEAL cannot be outdone by a floppy haired beach bum in anything." He shook his head and advanced on Deeks.

Hetty cleared her throat and stepped up, flicking her hand at Sam signalling him to back up. She turned to face Deeks and clasped her hands in front of her. "I have to discuss Mr. Deeks performance in paperwork first, Mr. Hanna. Specifically his justification statements." Deeks began to shift from foot to foot and began to get the look of a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He ducked his head and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

Hetty continued, "I quote, 'Bad dude trying to kill me and the rest of LA', really Marty, a mountainous pile of paperwork is no excuse for," she paused, "bad grammar."

_Fin_

* * *

**A/N:** That's it! Not really, I mentioned a follow-up, and its name is Brothers in Arms: Hetty's Revenge. It shall be posted before the day is out.


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